New Age Darkness
by subject2reality
Summary: Sequel to 'New Blood.' 'The Coming' has arrived, as has a dangerous new foe, and it's up to Max and a unique band of transgenics to save the day. Rated R for adult themes, go figure.
1. TwoWay Beginning

**Okay here we go, the sequel to New Blood. Hope people will read it and enjoy it as much as the first. It is from the view that Logan survived, so yes he is in this one (I AM NOT A LOGAN HATER! He is a personal friend of mine) A loose beginning but this should be epic...if I can find the time like! Anyways, enjoy and lateroo! **

**Chapter 1: Two-Way Beginning**

Jess fumbled with her keys, her swollen fingers making a simple procedure into a complex nightmare. Fresh blood still tainted her skin and the metal of the door key kept slipping against the almost frictionless liquid.

"Shit!" Jess cried as her keys fell from her hands to the grubby floor of her apartment hallway. Outside, the ferocious wails of fire engines and police vehicles found their way up to Jess's ears. Great, she thought, now the ignorant authorities have discovered the scene of tonight's devastation.

Bending down and scooping up her keys, Jess made a consorted effort to slip the serrated metal into the miniscule lock. Another minute passed and then _success,_ the key slotted into the door with a satisfying click. Jess twisted the key and grimaced as a niggling pain spread up her arm. She growled at herself for turning the key the wrong way and then corrected her mistake, the door finally unlocking and allowing her through.

Stepping into the dark insides, Jess allowed the front door to close of its own accord and didn't bother to hook the latch, it would probably be more hassle than it was worth. Not bothering to turn on the main light either, she made her way to her minute bathroom; one of three separate rooms contained within her newly acquired residence.

Jess pulled on a dangling string and a faint illumination spread through the restricted box of a room. There was a sink, a toilet, a mirror and that was it. The tiled floor was cracked and the wood underneath was soggy and in the process of disintegrating. Jess figured she could get three more months out of the place, her third in as many months, and then she would be forced to leave by the troublesome lack of a floor.

Jess leaned into the mirror that hung on the dirt-smeared wall above her sink. She clenched her teeth as the light above buzzed like a _bastard_ wasp that couldn't take a hint, and inspected her reflection. A swollen left eye that was beginning to resemble the bruised flesh of a plum, a torn lip from which a stream of blood had emerged and trickled down her chin, and sporadic cuts and grazes spread unevenly across both her cheeks; another night, another fight and another collection of unflattering wounds.

Jess sighed and spat a dollop of blood-enriched saliva into her grime-encrusted sink. Returning her eyes to the mirror, she raised her barely functioning right hand and ran a broken finger across the thick pale scar that extended from the outer corner of her left eye to the edge of her ear. Her broken fingers then wondered across to the indented, but ultimately healed, tear in the skin covering her right cheekbone. Past wounds from past scuffles that would probably never fade...redemption came with a price.

Crossing her arms, she grabbed the base of her tight fitting green vest and hauled it over her head. As she did so, an ache danced across her ribs in raucous protest and Jess moaned in discomfort. Yet another wound: a rather ugly looking bruise that coated the entirety of the right side of her rib cage. The pale skin had darkened to an unnatural mix of purple, yellow and red. In addition, a deep gash cut across the skin of her upper-right-arm. Blood seeped from the forced opening and fell down to her elbow and then onto the floor. Jess cursed the security guard responsible. He had shot at her as she had made her escape and, at the time, she thought he had missed: _obviously not!_

Jess turned the handle of the supposed hot water tap and waited as the old pipes spluttered and groaned. A few moments passed and then a steady flow of brown tinged water began to spill into the sink, washing away the pool of bloodied saliva. Jess thrust her swollen hands under the running water and watched as the blood pouring from numerous lacerations was caught up and washed away down the plughole. The water was cold but Jess didn't mind, it eased the pain throbbing in her three or four broken fingers.

Satisfied that her hands had been adequately cleansed, Jess made a bowl with her palms and splashed the refreshing liquid onto her face, again blood coming away in a crimson waterfall gushing down and winding out of sight, into the circular oblivion of the plughole. It should have been quiet a distressing sight, seeing ones own blood flowing so freely, but Jess had become accustomed to it. This sort of state was common for her and she had gotten used to having her face and entire person subjected to savage beatings. It was the norm...you just accepted it and carried on.

Now with both her hands and face reasonably cleaned, Jess peered into the mirror for a re-evaluation. _Nope_, she was still a mess just no longer a bloody one. The cuts and grazes were still fresh and there was a stinging glow about them as they beamed proudly. The skin around her left eye was still a deep purple and elsewhere, other bruises were starting to materialise through her pale complexion. Her red and black tinted hair was straggled and soaked strands of platinum blonde drooped across her face. She looked undernourished, probably because she was, and her toned stomach was beginning to recede inwards adding some extra definition to her bruised ribs. This was not a good look and Jess let out a soft groan of disapproval.

Jess pulled her vest back on, battling through the pain, and tied her hair back with an elastic band she found in her jeans pocket. She gave her reflection a quick slap and then pulled on the hanging string to turn out the light and vanquish its tedious buzz.

She drifted over to the kitchen that merged with her living room, and opened a rusty but reliable fridge. A bright light scythed through the gloom and Jess squinted her tired emerald eyes in order to make out its contents. She was relieved to find that she did in fact have some frozen peas as anticipated. With the lack of any proper medical supplies, these peas would have to serve as a temporary cure for the burning pain in both her hands.

As it was her preferred side, Jess neatly placed her right hand amongst the cool bag of nimble peas and shuffled over to her battered and virtually broken couch. She collapsed on top of it and felt the worn cushion begin to swallow her up. To actually sit down was a luxury after a hard night battling evil forces, and Jess soaked up every second of cushion-induced comfort. Her body still ached but she was just too tired to care and she could feel her troubled mind lulling to a peaceful sleep.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

The voice came from behind Jess and she bolted upright, a hand extending to her chest to ensure her heart was still beating after the sudden shock. The light that hung above the couch flickered to life, lighting up the room, and jess turned to see a familiar figure standing by her front door.

He was tall and well built with broad shoulders. His face had a strange brick like quality to it and he wasn't glaringly handsome, but there was a definite charisma about his tight features. Floppy, greasy blonde hair lulled around his blue eyes like some unfinished picture frame and his skin, like Jess's, bore numerous scars from past battles. He was dressed in his standard get up: stupidly tight jeans, stupidly tight t-shirt and a rather loose fitting leather jacket. An air of importance surrounded him like an invisible bubble and it offset the loneliness that seemed to bleed from his pores.

"Jesus Zack, don't do that. You scared the shit out of me!" Jess exclaimed rather breathlessly.

Zack smiled gingerly, dimpled creases extending his cheeks upwards. He walked over and took a seat next to Jess. He reached out and gently tilted her face towards him so that he could inspect the damage.

"Damn," he spoke with an authoritive tone of voice, "the bastards got you good tonight."

Jess wrestled her face free from his hand and looked towards the uncovered wooden floor. She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She hated it when Zack was so flippant about injuries she had sustained. In the few months she had known him, she had come to learn that he had taken it upon himself to assume responsibility for nearly all the transgenics currently in Seattle. He was the older brother none of them had ever had, the voice of reason amidst the violent chaos that was building around them. Unfortunately, the strains of this self-appointed position meant Zack often appeared cold and uncaring towards those he cherished most. Although Jess knew that deep down he was crying a river for her, she couldn't help but wish he would exhibit some kind of external warmth.

"Yeah well, I aint the one that's dead!" Jess said sharply, not averting her eyes from the floor.

Zack looked at her and his heart melted. They really had got her good this time and he got the distinct impression that she wasn't handling it too well. He knew that Jess was always on the front lines of the struggle and in the past he had seen her in far worse states, but tonight something was different. The distant nature of her eyes and the subtle trembling of her petite body hinted that tonight's skirmish bore some significance from the others.

"I'm sorry," Zack said, the authoritive tone melting away to genuine concern.

Slowly Jess looked up at Zack and he could see the trail mark of a single tear that had slithered down her narrow face and now rested on her chin. It dangled for a moment and then fell onto her savagely bruised hands. Something bad had _definitely_ occurred tonight.

"Wanna tell me what went down?" Zack asked, putting an arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him and rested her head against his chest.

Jess managed a smile and secretly thanked Zack for stepping up to the comfort plate. "Ambush," she replied bluntly. "Three of them cornered me in a warehouse and we kind of got into an argument."

"What were you doing in a warehouse?" Zack inquired again coming across as a little too cold. He couldn't help it. He felt responsible for Jess and every other transgenic currently stemming the overflowing numbers of Familiars flooding the city.

Jess looked up and gave Zack a scowl that didn't quite come off. "I followed one of them. I was hunting him you know, we've taken such a beating I guess I wanted to..."

"Score one for our team?"

Jess nodded. "Anyway, in the ensuing scuffle a fire broke out after I careered into a stupidly placed paraffin lamp some idiot had been using for lighting. Cos the warehouse was filled with crates of deodorant; there was a wee bit of an explosion. I got out in time but the Familiars did not, nor did the security guard who stumbled upon us and decided to direct his bullets in my direction."

"Damn Jess," Zack shook his head, "that's going to attract some unwanted attention and what with the city already alert to the resurgence in transgenic numbers..."

"I know," Jess sighed, "I wish Max was here..."

Max: the name seemed familiar to Zack but he couldn't understand why. He tried to think but it was like the familiarity belonged to some memory he couldn't access. Maybe he was just being daft; there were thousands of Max's in the world. Chances were he had encountered a dog named Max back in the days he had spent working on a discreet farm. _Yeah that was probably it...right?_

"Who's Max?" Zack asked, hoping Jess could put an end to his wonderment.

"The answer to all our problems," Jess replied, another tear forcing its way down her raw cheek.

Max Guevera; it had been almost a year since she had defeated Jess's former companion Gray and left Seattle with her boyfriend Logan Cale. Jess had promised to take care of Seattle in her absence and, while she was trying to keep her word, it became increasingly difficult with every passing day.

The first couple of months after Max and Logan's departure had passed without incident. Jess had begun to assemble what could pass for a regular life. She found a job waiting tables and obtained a small apartment that, while decayed, felt oddly homely; her first place free of Gray. She had also managed to wiggle her way into the social structure of certain _normal_ people: meeting them at work and choosing to interact with them rather than rip out their spleens, like the Jess of old would have done. It had been a good time and Jess remembered it fondly, but it wasn't to last.

Three months after Max's departure, things started to fall apart. Jess had been on her way home after a stressful night waiting on other people, catering to their every whim no matter how unreasonable it seemed.

"Bring me purified wine made from the blood of Jesus Christ," an obnoxious man in a suit would say.

"Fuck off," Jess would reply inside her head while her lips uttered: "I'll see what I can do..._dick."_ Jess could have sworn the man had heard that last derogatory whisper.

Having experienced countless numbers of such events over an eight-hour shift, Jess had been at boiling point; ready to poison glasses of purified wine or maybe use neatly sanded breadsticks as stabbing weapons. She had been muttering obscenities to herself while fishing out her keys when she rounded the corner onto her street and stumbled into three large men. Each had worn a flowing orange robe with a gold snake symbol emblazoned on the chest. Each also wore a displeased look upon their face.

Having never encountered a Familiar before, Jess mistook the three strangers as some kind of monks. They had baldheads, ridiculous symbols painted on their foreheads and were dressed I an unsuitable manner for a city; it all stood to reason. Jess, already primed to explode, had been in no mood to interact with barmy monks.

"Sorry can't stop, in a hurry." She had said, attempting to squeeze past. One of them had put a tough hand on her shoulder and pushed her backwards. He had examined her closely, taking in her scent and then his face curled up in disgust.

"Transgenic scum!" he had cried, issuing a declaration of war.

One of his companions had sneered: "Looks like you took a wrong turn bitch!" and he began to chuckle.

Jess had been completely oblivious as to who or what these men were, at least up until the point where the third guy struck her across the face sending her instantly to the gro

Gray had told her about the Conclave: freaky guys in ceremonial dress who think they're tougher than they are. These three seemed to fit the bill and the novelty of actually meeting a Familiar soon wore off as Jess had found herself fighting for her life.

Each individual was as strong and as fast as a transgenic but they had one annoying advantage: they did not feel pain. Jess had disjointed one of their knees and the man did not even bat an eyelid as he slumped to the ground and spewed venom at her in a hideous stare. Jess had returned the stare but her eyes cried, _what the fuck!_ This momentarily lapse in concentration had allowed one of the Familiars to get the jump on her and he slashed her face with a knife.

That had been it; with her face dribbling warm crimson from a disfiguring tear, Jess had decided to leave. She had broken away and disappeared into the night to lick her wounds, leaving the three Familiars to argue as to whose fault it was that the pathetic little transgenic had managed to escape.

That was the beginning and a few weeks later, Seattle was crawling with Familiars thirsting for transgenic blood. Jess had been shocked as the known transgenic numbers had begun to skyrocket. Suddenly they were everywhere, rumours of their extinction greatly exaggerated, emerging from secret holes, secret lives they had made for themselves. The Familiars spread like wildfire and the newly discovered transgenics fled, their very existence once again at stake.

Of course, with transgenics back on the scene, the everyday populous of Seattle began to panic. 'They're back', was plastered across newspaper front pages. 'Mutant menace has returned for your children: PANIC!'

The media kicked up a storm and its hate mongering was the catalyst for another epidemic of prejudice and loathsome ignorance. Vigilante groups re-appeared and vowed to take down the transgenic species by any means necessary. Jess and her kin consequently found themselves fighting two different enemies who both wanted the same thing, genocide.

Carefully built lives were swept away like dust in the wind. Close friendships were torn apart at the seams, severed beyond repair. Jobs vanished in an instant and with them the money needed to survive. Houses and apartments were lost either by legal eviction or a throng of tanked up thugs fuelled by misguided fear. It didn't matter that for the past year transgenics and regular people had been able to co-exist, lives were taken and blood spilt on both sides.

By day the transgenics struggled with persecution and by night they had to face hordes of Familiars. The transgenics stood their ground – there was nowhere else to go – and Jess stood right along beside them. No more running, no more hiding, peace was an impossible desire for Manticore soldiers.

A couple of months into the struggle, she hooked up with a small group who planned on taking the fight to the Familiars, to look out for those who could not defend themselves. This had been where she had met Zack and this was where she had been ever since. In between then and now, stood countless battles, skirmishes, injuries and blood loss. This was not the future Jess had envisaged for herself, it was not the road to redemption and with every life that she took; she slipped further into the dark void of despair.

Zack ran a tender finger across the thick scar on Jess's face. He looked at her and he could almost see the pain rising from her like a thick cloud. It wasn't just the brutal injuries; it cut deeper than that. Zack knew she had a mysterious past she was unwilling to share. The only person she ever seemed to open up to was a brash individual named Trick, and that was because they went way back to the days when she was in Manticore. Jess was a closed book that never opened to Zack's eyes and so he found her deeply intriguing. Now here she was mumbling about some dude called Max and so the mystery deepened.

_Who was Max_? The question was beginning to niggle at Zack, bother him a little more than it should have. Why did Jess wish he was here? Why did the name sound so familiar?

Zack felt responsible for every transgenic currently fighting the impossible odds. He didn't know why exactly, probably part of the training he could no longer remember. But there was something special about Jess. Zack knew he shouldn't, but he had a soft spot for her...she was special. It killed him to see the poor girl go through so much but now there was a new feeling to plague his thoughts: jealousy. Just who the hell was this guy Max?

"I'm sorry Max," Jess mumbled as she fell into the blissful grip of sleep.

"Who's Max?" Zack asked the empty room as he leant his head on top of Jess'. "If he's so great, then where is he now?"

Night fell and the dark blue sky was awash with diamond stars and the silver crescent moon hovered above like a deep cut in the navy surface. Dark clouds drifted across like a translucent veil and wondered aimlessly with nowhere to go.

Max sat watching the sky and taking in deep breaths of fresh, rich country air. She was positioned at the edge of an expansive lake surrounded by a dense forest of tall pine trees. The moonlight cut across the rippled surface of the water like some distorted path that ran up to her feet, calmly submerged in the cool shallow depths. The haunting silver turned the trees into jagged silhouettes that appeared out of place against the thick blue canvass of sky behind and above them. It was a magical view, a painting that perfectly captured the essence of peace.

Completely at ease, Max rested her elbows on the soft dirt and flicked her feet, splashing the clear silvery water. There were no sounds except the distant rustling of branches and the occasional splash as timid waves licked the lakes' edges. This was what she had craved for so long and, even after a whole year, she never grew tired of immersing herself into the quaint wilderness.

There was nothing but green countryside for miles around. The nearest point of civilisation was a small post-pulse town called Morrisburgh. It had a population of around two hundred and fifty. They were friendly people, cut off from the corruption of city life, and they were receptive towards Max when she came for monthly groceries. An old woman named Molly ran the general store and Max enjoyed gossiping about all sorts whenever she visited. Molly also enjoyed her monthly updates from Max, eagerly taking in the news and responding with warm pleasantries. It was vastly different from Max's former life in Seattle but it hadn't taken her long to be seduced by its quiet allure. She could even say that she fell for it completely.

Max smiled; a genetically enhanced killing machine falling for a quiet life in the secluded wilderness didn't sound quite right. But it was true and Max's heart sank as she realised this was to be her last night alone with the poetic painting before her.

It was time to leave, Max knew this. For the past few weeks something had been niggling at the furthest reaching of her mind. It wouldn't disappear and only grew stronger. At first, Max had not known what to make of it. She tried to shrug it off but couldn't help feeling that something terrible was coming. She had suspicions of what it could be and last week those suspicions were confirmed.

Strange black symbols had appeared on the back of her hand and were the markings of some long lost language. Translated, they simply read: _the coming is here._ That had been it, the signal to return to Seattle. The time had arrived for Max to face up to her destiny, fulfil her obligation to her creator. It was time to go save the world.

"Are you ok?" Logan's voice came from behind her and Max turned to see him standing on the decking in front of their small wooden cabin. He was wrapped in a chequered blanket and his brilliant blue eyes were still sleepy. A lazy smile was spread across lips and he sighed in contentment as he shuffled over to Max and sat beside her.

"Thought you were sleeping," Max said, tussling his scattered hair into an even greater mess.

Logan laughed. "Yeah well, I guess I got lonely." He put an arm around Max and welcomed her into his blanket cocoon. Max snuggled into his side and put a hand against his chest, her fingers feeling the raised flesh of a past bullet wound.

"Sorry Logan but you know that I don't really need to sleep."

"I know..." Logan stopped to yawn, his entire face tightening like a rubber band. "It's just nice to have you there." He leaned down and kissed the top of her raven black hair.

"Well just another minute and then I will be back inside." Max said, her voice distant.

"There's no hurry, I'm up now and besides, I need to say goodbye too." He looked across the lake and into the surrounding forest.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Max whispered.

"Yes it is," Logan replied, his voice joining hers in the far off depths of the forest.

"I don't want to leave."

Logan chuckled and ran a hand through Max's long hair. A finger broke away and brushed the soft skin of her cheek and she smiled at the comforting nature of his touch. Logan could do this for her; little gestures such as this were all she needed to feel like everything would be ok. He didn't need to use words his touch spoke volumes.

"Well the coming has finally..." Logan paused and tensed his brow. "I want to say 'come' but it sounds so..."

Max exhaled sharply in amusement and gave Logan a nudge with her head. "Yes it has _come_ and I have to go back."

"We have to go back," Logan corrected her.

Max smiled. "We have to go back." She looked up at Logan and pulled him in for a lingering kiss. She then rested her forehead against his and looked into his eyes. "It has been perfect hasn't it?"

"Beyond perfect," Logan replied. "Now," his voice brightened into a more playful tone, "can you do your trick for me?"

Max raised her eyebrows and replied in a sly voice. "What trick are we talking about?"

"The one with the disappearing rock...of course."

Max giggled and shook her head. "I don't know Logan..."

"Please!"

"Ok." She reached out and retrieved an oval shaped rock from the lakeside. It's smooth surface appeared oil like in the pale moonlight and she tightened her fingers around its shape. "Now here we have an ordinary rock," she rotated the rock with her fingers. "I plan to make this rock disappear."

Logan gave a theatrical gasp.

"Ok, on one...two...and three!"

Max tightened her fingers and the rock disintegrated immediately. There was a loud crack that echoed the trees and it crumbled to dust, filtering through the cracks of her clenched fist.

"There ya go," Max opened up her hand, "no more rock!"

"That's amazing," Logan cried, "I've never seen anything like that before..."

Max laughed. "Ok Logan, don't overdo it."

"Sorry," he smiled. "Are you worried about going back to Seattle?"

"Yeah, I hope Jess has managed to keep it in one piece; we were gone longer than planned after all."

"I'm sure she has, now come on, lets go inside. You may be a cold-tolerant super being but I'm freezing my nuts off!"

"And we can't have that," Max replied, rising to her feet.

Logan made his way back to the cabin and Max took one last look around her. She said goodbye and then followed inside. Tomorrow was the end of peace and the beginning of another chapter of violence. Max wasn't entirely sure of what 'The Coming' was but she knew that whatever it was, it would be bad...very, very bad.


	2. The After Life

**Chapter 2: The After Life**

It was very late on a Sunday night and Dr Collins found himself walking towards his lab with one bastard of a headache. He had received the call an hour earlier, demanding that he get down here straight away. Apparently their benefactors had wanted to run some new test that, for some inexplicable reason, could not wait the few hours until morning arrived. This was not how he liked to do business but when the money people said jump, Collins asked how high.

He reached the end of the finely polished corridor, each white tile sparkling with the glare from the tube lights that hung overhead. Collins swiped his card and waited for the knowing beep. It took a few moments then the L.C.D display of the lock flicked green and the door opened with a metallic sigh.

His partner, Dr Graham, was already inside standing by an operating table on which the specimen lay. Graham was already set, fully dressed in his yellow biohazard suit complete with what looked like an old astronaut helmet from which two tubes extended to the breathing apparatus harnessed on his back.

"Hey Sam," Collins said as he made his way over to the lockers on the right side of the room.

"Hey, what took you so long?" Graham replied his voice distorted by the heavy breaths his suit forced him to take.

Collins grunted a laugh and then proceeded to climb clumsily into his own bio suit. It was just a precautionary measure to wear the unflattering thing; most of the chemicals they dealt with were designed only to be harmful towards transgenics but because they were in a test stage, it was wise to take appropriate safety measures.

Suited up, Collins made his way to the operating table. The young transgenic lay motionless, his pale face staring blankly at the numerous lights that hung from the tiled ceiling. If he didn't know any better, Collins would say the guy was dead but then he did now better; the poor thing was still very much alive. Collins and his associates had snatched him from the jaws of death just shy of a year ago. The specimen had been involved in some shoot out at a small restaurant. He had taken three slugs to the gut and had, medically speaking, passed on. However, thanks to the wonders of science, Collins and Graham had been able to bring him back after acquiring the body on the black market. It had cost them a pretty penny but an intact transgenic specimen was a valuable property these days. Now this poor sod was nothing more than a lab rat, subject to countless tests in search of new viral agents to deal with the entire transgenic threat. Should an agent be successful and he died, they simply brought him back to life by harvesting new organs for him through the combined methods of genetic engineering and advanced robotics. On one occasion, a failed virus had melted away his eyes and they found themselves having to create him a new set; a pristine pair of robotic blue eyes that gave him enhanced vision to match his lost transgenic sight. Their enterprise contained a number of scientists who had worked on the original Manticore project and so the technology was not foreign and the procedure really rather simple.

"Ok, ready to roll John?" Graham asked, reaching across to the table of surgical implements that lay next to the operating table. He retrieved a glimmering scalpel and flashed a quick grin. Collins knew that Sam Graham despised the transgenics, ever since one of them had run off with his teenage daughter a couple of years back. Consequently, Sam took great pleasure in his work and at times he appeared sadistic as he probed and prodded the young man that lay on their table.

"John?" Graham asked again, peering at his partner.

Collins awoke from his daze – it was too late to be doing this shit – and focused on his partner. He was brandishing the scalpel and his lips were still upturned in an excited smile.

"Yeah, sorry, I was miles away," Collins said, shifting uncomfortably in his suit. Damn things may be safe but they were sure as hell hot.

"You may proceed." A booming voice came down through the speakers that hung in the corners of the room. Collins looked up to the control room, a small box that protruded from the left wall. He could out make three figures standing behind the tempered glass. Two were dressed in smart black business suits - they were undoubtedly the money guys from the Anti-Transgenic League, their main sponsors – and a third was dressed in a white lab coat, that was Dr Ferrer, head of their research and another guy who had a slight disdain for transgenics. Everybody on this program hated these genetic soldiers, everyone except for Collins. He had always been indifferent, his passion for the science more important than anything else. Bringing the specimen, presently lying on their table, back to life had been Collins' proudest achievement and he did shy away slightly from the constant probing to find new and more efficient ways to kill him again.

"You want to start the tape John, I'll make the incision." Graham said, bending down and dragging the scalpel across the subject's throat. A red line appeared, like it had been drawn with felt pen, and then small amounts of blood began to trickle from the laceration and run down onto the shiny surface of the table. Graham smiled, he enjoyed inflicting damage upon these unnatural abominations.

Collins reached across to the table and grabbed a Dictaphone. He checked that the tape was ready and then pushed record. He cleared his throat and then spoke in the most professional tone he could muster.

"November 23rd, 2022, 3:00am. Dr's Collins and Graham attending. Subject X5-494 has been primed and prepared to receive viral agent X-Killer-2020." Collins paused and stifled a laugh; they always gave their concoctions such ridiculous names. He cleared his throat and continued.

"My colleague Dr Graham has made the incision to the throat and will now insert the virus directly into subject X5-494's windpipe. Expected effects should include bruising of the skin, followed by flooding of the lungs and then death. Should this test be successful then it will be green light to producing a mass batch of X-Killer-2020 and further research done to ensure the contagion can become airborne."

Collins stopped and watched as Graham retrieved a vial of clouded green liquid. He attached it to a syringe and then plunged it into the hole he had made in the throat. The vial was emptied into the windpipe and then both Collins, Graham and the men in the control box stood back and waited with bated breath...

Nothing happened.

"This can't be right," Graham said taking a step forward and peering at the vital signs displayed on the numerous monitors hooked up to X5-494. They all read normal, he was perfectly healthy. "The effect should have almost been instantaneous."

Collins took a step forward and peered down at the subject, Graham was busying himself with the monitors trying to see if perhaps they were malfunctioning. Blue eyes stared back at him, for the first time in a long time they had a sparkle of life about them, strange seeing how the eyes were not human. Suddenly colour began to flood back into 494's cheeks and his entire body began to convulse.

"Jesus, here we go!" Graham cried, pushing a hand down onto the chest of X5-494, his spine now rigid and arched, bending up towards the sky.

Frothy saliva began to bubble in his mouth and his eyes slipped back into his forehead. Something wasn't right here; this wasn't supposed to happen, the effects were supposed to be calm and controlled. Collins looked across at Graham, now desperately trying to restrain the subject, and shouted. "Something's wrong Sam! Look at his brain activity; it's off the bloody chart! He hasn't exhibited so much as a whisper in the past three months!"

Graham looked up as he struggled with the convulsing body. "I know," he cried desperately, "but maybe the result will be the same. Perhaps it has induced a more violent death!"

"What the hell is going on?" came an irritated voice from the control box.

Collins stepped away from the table and looked up. "We're not sure, this was not anticipated. Apparently the effects of X-killer-2020 are more...potent than we first predicted, but so far there is little reason to worry...we believe the end result will be the same; namely death."

"...Very well."

Collins returned to his place beside the operating table. Graham had abandoned his vain attempts at restraint and now the body of X5-494 began to thrash around uncontrollably. Dollops of blood began to explode from his mouth like lava from a volcano and his eyes were now pure white as they looked in every direction. _Just what the fuck was going on here?_

Suddenly and without warning the convulsions stopped and the heart monitor flat-lined, the ominous and constant ringing the only sound. Graham hurriedly checked all the monitors and then turned towards Collins with a satisfied look on his face, even with his hazard mask on Collins could make out the plump dimples in his cheeks. "Panic over, the fuckers dead!" he said triumphantly.

Collins allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief and then began to inspect the body. It was completely still and his blue eyes resumed their unbroken stare towards the ceiling. His face and chest were now smeared with white saliva and dull blood but the pale colour had returned to his entire body.

"Is he dead?" came the commanding voice from the control room.

"Yes sir," Collins replied.

Graham strode up next to Collins and gave him a nudge on the arm. "We've done it now, created an agent that can destroy transgenics but leave us humans feeling just fine and dandy. All we do now is wait and the big bucks will come to us baby."

Collins smiled. "I guess..."

"Is the body supposed to do that?" the mystery voice from the control room asked.

Collins and Graham turned around to find X5-494 sitting up, anxiously looking around the room. His eyes were alert and all his vital signs had returned to normal. A healthy red had emerged underneath his skin and now he seemed alive and well. He began to pull at all the leads fastened to his body and the tear in his throat was already beginning to heal right before their eyes..._what the hell was this!_

"What the..." Graham started only to be cut off by a deafening and agonised roar from the lips of X5-494. It was a horrible noise, a haunted howl from some beast in terrible pain...just like X5-494, Collins thought suddenly finding himself very afraid.

In an instant 494 had leapt to his feet and grabbed a serrated saw designed for cutting through bone, from the table. Immediately realising the danger, Graham turned toward the door with the intention of escaping but only made it a few feet before 494 had him by the throat. Graham struggled but it was no use, Collins watched in sickened horror as 494 dragged the saw across his throat, spilling his blood in a horrendous eruption of red.

Graham slumped to the floor gagging from inside his suit. 494 turned his attention to Collins, his robotic blue eyes soulless with a mad rage.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" came a muffled voice from the control room, "somebody call security...NOW GOD DAMNIT!"

Collins was trembling as he stared at 494 and 494 stared right back at him. Everything seemed so unreal from behind his visor like it was some sort of bad horror movie, but Collins knew this was actually happening. Something had gone terribly wrong and now the subject they had tormented so ruthlessly had been granted the ability to exact revenge. It didn't help his fear, but Collins couldn't help feeling he deserved what was coming his way in an almost invisible blur. He felt the strong arms of 494 wrap around his neck and then he felt the cold steel of the saw cut through his suit and then scythe open his throat. He managed to cry for forgiveness and then...nothing.

Letting his second kill fall to the ground, 494 began to look around for fresh meat. There was nothing except the blaring sound of an alarm and the drumming of heavy feet from outside the lab. The door opened and a security team, dressed in stone camouflaged fatigues with black flak jackets, and armed with automatic weapons spilled into the room, fanning out to surround his position.

494 snarled at them but they were undeterred, continuing to demand he get down and surrender. There were too many to fight and so he would have to find another way out. Whirling round, he found the far wall was composed entirely of glass. Without a thought for the consequences, 494 fled towards the windows, feeling the bullets whistle past him and crash into the glass inadvertently helping him with his escape. He jumped through and fell three storeys down before landing perfectly on his feet.

494 didn't stop to think, instead he raced off into the night with nothing but a faint memory, and a name lost for so long...Alec, his name was Alec.


	3. Rabbits in Holes

WARNING: contains very strong language and mild drug references. This chapter doesn't really go anywhere and could be viewed as rather odd and dull. The title is hard to justify but I liked it and there is a very, very, very slight relevance if you study hard enough. Also, do not worry kiddies; I am considering toning down the language and violence to acceptable levels in the future or maybe I will create an edited version hmmmm...nah! Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think...am I forgiven for killing Logan yet, I mean look...he's alive! Hoorah!

**Chapter 3: Rabbits in Holes**

Evening had set in by the time Logan finally pulled the car within the boundaries of Seattle. The tall glass buildings that lined the busy roads appeared on fire as the radiant glow from the husky red and purple horizon spilled its light across the land, clashing with the reflective surfaces. Max was shocked as she adjusted to the regular city sights. There were so many people: rushing out of shops, hanging around dingy markets, conversing over outside dining tables soaking up the tea-time warmth, strays wondering aimlessly, other vehicles clogging up the road and slowing their progress. There were drunks, businessmen, everyday teens, and kids in prams, mothers, fathers, uncles, grandparents, and shady looking gangster types. Junkies, nobodies, the beautiful ones whose presence on the streets commanded immediate attention, skaters and bikers, hookers getting ready for a hard nights work, pimps, shoppers, wonderers, dealers, and then there were cops attempting to oversee this diverse wealth of human life. _Jesus – there are so many goddamn people and they're all relying on me, _Max thought as she focused her sight onto a collection of youths hovering round an 'oriental herbs' stall set up amongst countless others, each with their own brand of cheap tat to sell.

Max let out a soft groan as her heart yearned to be back in her secluded paradise, far away from this tightly packed, run down and over-crowded focal point of human congregation. The car came to a sudden halt and Max found herself dragged away from her thoughts with a sudden jolt.

"Sorry," Logan said while cranking the gear stick back to neutral.

"God I hate this place..." Max muttered, resting back into the dent formed in her seat from the constant hours on the road.

Logan turned and cast a doubtful glance Max's way. "I though it was home."

"It is... but that doesn't mean I have to like the stupid place. I mean look," Max held up her hands and gestured to the compact row of cars that led up to the overhanging traffic lights a fair distance ahead, "traffic; can there be anything more annoying. What could be worse than being stuck in a stuffy car, waiting for a bunch of idiots to move their hunks of metal just so you can go another few meters only to stop again. It's just so..." Max growled as though she had just caught a sudden chill.

"Crap – I know," Logan laughed.

"It's not funny, it's soul-destroying." Max said, huffily crossing her arms.

She was obviously cranky from the long trip, Logan figured, allowing himself a brief smile before attempting to make things appear better. "You know if you wanted to, you could get out and shift every one of those idiots in our path, we'll be home in no time."

"Don't tempt me," Max replied, letting her lips close into a full-blown pout. She felt Logan's eyes wondering over her and sensed he was fit to burst with laughter. She was being ridiculous, probably looked ridiculous as well, and Max tried very hard to hold back the laughter that climbed up her own throat. It was no use and the sound came, firstly in uncontrolled bursts and then she let go and it gushed out her mouth in a cute little roar. Logan began to chuckle and put a hand on her cheek.

"Isn't that better?" he inquired.

"No..." Max lied. "Well...maybe a little – but it doesn't change anything. This place is still a dump."

"Yes but it's our dump."

Max paused to consider this. She thought about everything that had transpired here. The people she had met and lost, the good times and the bad times. The past was everywhere, surrounding her like a comfort blanket, reminding her that her memories were real and not just some vivid dream. Memories of Jam Pony surfaced; memories of delivering packages and complaining constantly to their boss, Normal, about having to do it. Max's mind continued to wonder and gathered up images of Crash and all the nights she had spent there: chilling, drinking, pining, pondering and just generally having a good time. Then there was Terminal City and the infamous massacre that had claimed the lives of two of her closest friends; Sketchy and Original Cindy – god how she missed them. Echoes of her battle with Gray resonated through her distracted mind. Her psychotic and ultimately evil twin brother had come to kill her and ended up destroying her entire life. Of course she had killed him but not before she had lost everything, including Alec and Logan

Max shivered; she hated thinking about Gray, it made her blood run cold and her stomach curl into knots. He would forever be a part of her for it was his blood that had completed her; made her into the supercharged transgenic she was today. Sometimes she heard his haunting voice snake into her dreams and she would wake up screaming believing she was back on top of that building, holding a dying Logan in her arms. There was indeed a dark side to Max and she like to call it Gray; her brother would forever live on inside of her, she carried him in her blood.

"Max?" Logan was looking at her with a little worry creeping over his blue eyes.

Max shook her head, her mind awakening from the consuming thoughts of the fallen: Gray, Sketchy, O.C, Alec, Asha and so many more whose names were lost to her. "Sorry," she said, "I was miles away but yeah...it is our dump." She managed a slight smile as she slouched into her chair and watched the traffic lights scroll down to green. Logan put his foot down and the car lurched forward. They managed to crawl down another couple of blocks and then there came another set of lights and another tedious but necessary wait.

"You see," Max exclaimed, "traffic is so annoying!"

Logan laughed before his features fell and he turned to Max with a serious look scrawled upon his slightly bearded face. "Where exactly are we going? I mean...we don't really have anywhere _to_ go. I sold my place before we left and we have no idea where Jess could be."

Max started to answer but stopped as she realised he was right. They hadn't really thought this through. She knew from the information passed onto her last year by Sandeman that The Coming would seek her out and so it wouldn't matter where she went because eventually it would find her. For some reason she had just figured it made sense to return to Seattle, that was where all the bad stuff had gone down in the past. However, Seattle was not really her home anymore and there really was nowhere to go. The most logical thing to do would be to find Jess but then where to begin; she could be anywhere. Max had gotten the impression last year that the elegant blonde was a bit of a nomad and so no place could be ruled out, as she would prefer to move around.

"Shit," Max hissed as the lights switched green and Logan pressed the car onwards. "You're right."

"So what should we do?"

Max massaged her chin and mulled their predicament over in her head. _This was so ridiculous. _"How about dinner?" she said at last.

"Max...I don't think now is the time for..."

"Oh come on, it makes sense Logan. We've been holed up in this stupid car of yours for the past decade, it will do us good to get out and refresh ourselves. Then we can sit down and plan shit out while eating some luxurious delight. I feel like cake, how about you?"

Logan paused, his concentration fixed on the road ahead. "I guess it does kind of make sense. Alright, but on one condition."

"What would that be?"

"You take back your criticism of my car, it is _not_ stupid."

Max smiled. "God, men and their toys. Ok, I take it back; your car is not stupid in fact it is the greatest hunk of metal I have ever had the pleasure to ride in. There, happy?"

"Oh yes...although I do doubt your sincerity."

"But I mean it, every word. I wouldn't lie to you would I?" Max unleashed her most convincing innocent smile and batted her long lashes.

"Yeah...hey, look there's a coffee shop over there. I bet they do cake." Logan nodded to his right and Max followed his gesture to see a rectangular shaped building with the name 'Bannatyne's' plastered overhead in red neon letters.

"Seems nice enough, ok lets go."

Jess sat staring blankly at the TV screen as it flashed various colours and made sounds that didn't really register with her brain. It was some topical show where people would come on and debate current issues affecting Seattle. Lately the most popular topic was the transgenic threat and most of the guests had nothing but bad things to say. Jess had heard it all before – _they are an affront to god and must be wiped out if any of us are to stand a chance of getting into heaven – _and so felt no need to pay any attention to the little gibbering man twiddling on to some overly tanned host.

It had been a slow day and Jess hadn't really noticed the transition form afternoon to evening. She had awoken on her couch late in the morning, wrapped in an old blanket. Zack must have left during the night and she was grateful for the gesture, as it usually got very cold in her small apartment, especially at night. After breakfast she had decided to use the rest of the day for recuperation, sitting on her couch wiling away the hours watching countless shows that seemed so irrelevant. Thanks to her superior transgenic healing, the swelling on her hands was beginning to subside and she could feel the cuts on her face beginning to close up.

Jess stretched up and arched her back with a groan. Hours of sitting on the couch had stiffened her whole body and it felt strange as she got to her feet and shuffled over to the window. Feeling the blood beginning to pump through her legs, she looked out at the golden expanse of buildings that sprawled out beneath her. The sun was just beginning to disappear behind the horizon and a yellow burning had surged around it like some sort of fierce goodbye. Jess squinted and smiled, it was beautiful to look at but it also signalled the beginning of ugliness.

Tonight would be like any other night. The Familiars would be out on the streets like they always were, looking to eliminate as many transgenics as they could. Soon she would have to make her way down to Bannatyne's coffee shop for the standard meeting that always preceded a nights fighting. Zack would deliver orders or tasks to each individual in the group and then they would split up and complete whatever assignment they were given.

Jess ran her tongue over the crusted gash in her lip. Her mind began to doubt whether her body could sustain another night of unforgiving punishment. The Familiars showed no mercy, they were relentless in their pursuit and never seemed to stop until they had beaten every last ounce of life out of their victim. Every night Jess went out, she knew that her life was on the line. Knew that tonight might be the night she didn't make it back and her name would consequently be carved into the slab of stone Zack kept to remember fallen comrades. This life wasn't what she wanted, she wanted the chance to be normal, but perhaps she didn't deserve it. Past sins had shaped her destiny and she would forever be living on the edge, waiting for the end.

The dull ringing of her phone, jerked Jess back to reality and she fumbled through her pockets to retrieve the vibrating device. "Hello" she said, her soft voice marred by a tired sluggishness. It had been the first time she had actually used her voice today and her throat stung slightly. She hadn't eaten anything aside from the toast in the morning and now her stomach was beginning to complain as well.

"Hey Jess, it's Trick" came the deep voice on the other end of the line.

Jess smiled, she should have known it would be Trick. Somehow he always seemed to know when she was feeling blue. "Hi, what's up?" she said forcing her voice to sound more upbeat.

"Zacky boy told me to tell you that tonight's meeting will take place in one hours time. I'm already down here with Chloe and Ali having a smoke. You should get down here before captain terrific arrives, have a little fun before the serious shit begins."

"Yeah...I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to make it tonight," Jess said, voicing her minds concerns over her welfare.

"Hey, you ok girl? You don't sound too hot."

"Rough night," Jess said, looking out the blurry glass of her window to see the sun slip out of view and a dull gloom sweep across the city.

"Yeah, I didn't have it so great myself. But hey, we wont let those bitches beat us down right? We are the baddest and meanest motherfuckers to come out of that whole Manticore fiasco, there aint nobody who can fuck with us and you better know it girl."

Jess chuckled, she loved Trick's over-confident and exuberant nature, and it was like a constant source of re-assurance when things appeared bleak. "I know it," she replied with a thankful tone of voice.

"You see, that's the way girl, just believe and we will persevere. Now come on mittens, get your fine ass down here."

Jess rolled her emerald eyes. "Jesus Trick, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that."

Trick laughed, the sound coming across a little distorted as the line crackled. "Ah come on it suits you, makes you seem...cute."

"Hey, I'm not cute; I'm a bad-ass bitch remember!"

Trick laughed again. "Yeah you are. Now come on, when can we expect you through this swinging door?"

"Be there in ten."

"Outstanding, I'll see you girl...oh and Jess..."

"Yeah..."

"Why don't you wear that lovely black cat suit, I could do with some cheering up myself."

Jess laughed and winced with the sudden nature of the action, her ribs clearly weren't fully healed. "I don't think so Trick," she said sternly.

"Damn. Ah well, can't blame me for trying. I'll see you soon."

"See you..."

Jess hung up the phone and held it close to her heart. She had known Trick her entire life. They had grown up together at Manticore and had both been selected for the test-training program that had led them into the path of Gray. Trick had never trusted Gray, never quite saw eye-to-eye, and he often warned Jess to stay away from him. However, she had been seduced by the dark side and upon their escape, she and Trick went their separate ways. Then of course there came the years of destruction and the dismantling of her soul. She and Gray surged across the States, spreading their terror as they went. Jess often wondered what had become of Trick but had been too wrapped up in the pleasures of sadistic debauchery to really care. Then she had come to Seattle and there came her epiphany and the demise of Gray at the hands of Max. This had left a hole in her heart, an empty void of loneliness and self-loathing. She had found herself longing for the days when it was just her and the ever cheerful Trick, he had always looked out for her and the one time she had ignored his advice, she had been burned...badly.

Her wish had been granted the day Jess had joined Zack's little transgenic group and found none other than Trick amongst the ranks. He had actually apologised to her, begging forgiveness for leaving her behind after she had been shot during their daring escape. He blamed himself for letting her fall into the grasp of Gray and he wanted nothing more than the chance to make things right. Jess had protested that she was the one that was sorry and in the end, after constant arguing, they had fell about laughing and agreed they were both sorry. Ever since then, Trick had been her closest confidante and the two of them had grown even closer. He was always there for her and just hearing his words tonight did wonders for her mood.

With some of the weight lifted from heart, Jess grabbed her coat and made her way down to Bannatyne's coffee house. Maybe tonight would be a good one...

Their came a timid ringing as Max stepped through the swing door entrance to Bannatyne's coffee shop. Logan followed close behind her and slung an arm over her shoulder. Max closed her eyes and took in a heady dose of the warm atmosphere. She could smell the soothing aroma of coffee beans and the mouth-watering odour of freshly baked bread. The sound of rushing air from an air ventilator added to the relaxing nature of the nicely compact room.

"Come on, why don't you take a seat and I'll get us some drinks." Logan said

"Don't forget the cake, "Max added as she made her way to one of the numerous tables lining the right side of the poorly lit room. She sat on one of the padded chairs and rested her arms on the polished surface of the wooden table. Logan made his way over to the counter to wait for service.

Max looked around; there were only three other people in the room, all of them huddled around the stools that bordered the metallic service counter. One looked like he had been carved out of stone, with vein-coated biceps that threatened to burst out of his tight fitting black t-shirt. His skin was tanned and he had jet-black hair shaved round the sides with the long strands on top clumped together into numerous spikes that seemed drawn towards the ceiling. He was clearly handsome in that typical male model way; defined cheekbones, a hard jaw line, and dark smouldering eyes. A pencil line beard dragged from just beneath his lower lip, down to the end of his chin and he wore a crucifix around his bulging neck. He was busy talking on a mobile phone and Max could hear him as he spoke, his voice deep and commanding, his laugh gravelled and hoarse.

On the stool next to him there sat a spunky looking young woman. She was short, her feet barely reaching the red and white tiled floor as she sat on the high rise stool. Her face was young and pale with a slender nose and full lips. Her eyes were odd: one a wooden hazel, the other a grassy green. Her shoulder length hair was a vibrant shade of navy blue and she had swept it back in a ponytail that stretched the skin of her forehead. Dressed in a short tartan skirt and a revealing black vest with a black choker fastened tightly round her neck, she looked every inch the material girlfriend of the man next to her.

The third person stood behind the counter and was bent over the side conversing with the blue haired girl while the other guy talked on the phone. This second guy was the complete opposite of handsome boy. He was tall and lanky with short carrot hair. The skin on his face was pale and had a peculiar green tint to it. His eyes were red and bleary and he was dressed in a white t-shirt covered by a grimy apron, he was obviously an employee of the establishment. As Logan came up to the counter, the man relented from rolling his 'cigarette' and shuffled over to offer his services.

_Quiet an odd bunch,_ Max thought to herself as she lounged back in her seat and gazed out the window next to the table. Outside, darkness was fast covering the city and the sky had matured to a darker shade of misty blue. The street lamps began to spring into action and they bathed the street in an affectionate glow. In the distance, the high-rise buildings lit up in preparation for the night and a reddish haze hovered above nowhere in particular as the neon signs of clubs and bars began their duty of attracting customers. People still roamed around the sidewalks and cars still scuttled along the roads but no one seemed that interested in this particular coffee shop. _Logan was right...this was_ _their dump_; Max thought as she marvelled at how little had changed in her absence. The place certainly had a familiar feeling about it and this feeling seemed to tug at Max's heart, reminding her that she once believed Seattle was where she belonged.

"Here we go," Logan said as he placed a cup of coffee and a slice of chocolate cake in front of Max. He took the seat opposite her and placed his own steaming cup down. "That guy was rather talkative, apparently his name is Ali."

Max peered across at the people huddled by the counter. The big guy had finished his phone conversation and was now sparking up the rolled joint. The distinct smell of marijuana drifted across the room and danced in Max's nostrils. "What do you think of hot boy over there?" Max asked, not averting her gaze from the three giggling stoners.

"Are you on heat?" Logan asked with his mug poised at his lips and his eyebrows raised.

Max turned to look at Logan. She tightened her eyes and shook her head in a playful manner. "No...it doesn't happen anymore, not now that I am complete."

"Well, in that case I think he looks like a thoroughly decent chap."

Max giggled. "Hmm...I don't know there is just something odd about those three. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there is something different about them."

"Maybe it's because they are smoking intoxicating substances," Logan offered.

"I don't think that's it...oh shit!" Max quickly jerked round to look at Logan just as the blue haired girl turned to look at them. "Did she see me looking?" Max asked in a hushed whisper, pulling a hand up to cover her face.

Logan took a sip of coffee. "Well if she didn't, I reckon your suss behaviour may have alerted her to your voyeuristic actions."

"Damn it!" Max straightened in her seat and Logan laughed as she adjusted her leather jacket and tried to appear casual. "Are they still looking?"

Logan casually looked over. "No, they're getting high."

Max breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god for that

"Why, do you think they might be after us or something?"

"No...but it's not good to stare at people, well get caught staring at people...it's just so embarrassing."

"I see...and you were staring at them because..."

"Well there is something suspicious about them, they could be after us or something."

Logan spluttered into his coffee and continued to chuckle as he mopped up the beads of brown liquid that splattered his khaki shirt.

"It's not funny Logan. Remember: just cos you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not after you." Max protested

"Where did you hear that?"

"Can't remember, some song by some famous band from Seattle way back before the pulse."

Just then the bell above the door rung and a slender woman stepped through the door. She wore baggy jeans and a tight green vest with a black jacket drape over her slender frame. A hood hung over her face obscuring it in shadow. She stopped as soon as she clocked Max and Logan staring at her and in an instant she removed the head.

Max gasped as she realised who it was and a beaming smile spread across her lips. "Jess!" she cried, leaping to her feet and rushing over to embrace her.

"Whoa, not so tight!" Jess cried as she felt Max's strong arms squeeze all the air out of her and aggravate her cracked ribs.

"Sorry," Max said, stepping back and looking into Jess's face, scowling as she noticed the cuts, bruises and scars marring her soft flesh. "God, what happened to you?"

Jess sighed as Logan came up and gave her a greeting smile. "Well, I can't tell you how glad I am that you're here..."

"Why?"

"Cos believe me when I tell you that the shit has really hit the fan this time..."


	4. Bad Men and Madness

**Chapter 4: Bad Men and Madness**

Dr Albert Ferrer sat with his hands outstretched and his fingers anxiously playing with one another. He was seated at the head of a large oak table surrounded by a set of black leather chairs. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light a small desk lamp sitting on a small rounded table in the corner of the spacious yet strangely claustrophobic boardroom. The floors were adorned with a soft red carpet and the tall walls covered in mahogany arches. This gave the entire room a personable but business like appearance. It was warm inside, a little too warm, and beads of sweat were beginning to form on Ferrer's brow and his baldhead.

Ferrer knew he was in a lot of trouble. The benefactors from the Anti-Transgenic League were not happy with last night's test of X-Killer-2020 and had called this morning for an urgent meeting to occur tonight in order to gain answers to two burning questions: firstly; why had it not worked the way it was supposed to? And secondly, how the hell had they managed to lose their specimen? It was the A.T.L. who funded the research and therefore they had a lot of capital on the line and consequently had final say on matters. Ferrer was technically in their employ and since his two colleagues had been brutally murdered by said missing specimen last night, it was up to him to offer an adequate explanation as to why things had gone awry.

It was not an enviable task, not in the least. The higher ranked members of the A.T.L. were notoriously brutal in their actions and unwavering in their resolve to completely wipe out the transgenics. They had invested in Ferrer's research because they believed he was capable of aiding them in their quest to find an efficient and swift means to eliminate the mutant menace once and for all. They had already endured months of failure and after last night's debacle, Ferrer suspected his pathetic explanation of _I don't know_ would land him in a rather deep pool of proverbial shit.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Ferrer read through the papers in front of him, re-evaluated the results of the tests he had performed on the remaining samples of X-Killer-2020. The substance was designed to induce flooding of the lungs, which would result in death, but it was cleverly keyed to specifically target transgenic gene sequencing and thus leave regular people oblivious and unharmed. However, last night the formula had helped a comatose transgenic regain consciousness and unleash a tirade of bloody vengeance before escaping the laboratory without leaving a trace as to where he could have gone.

It had made no sense, and Ferrer had been up all last night running tests, desperately seeking a reason why. There had been nothing, all his results suggested there was nothing wrong with the agent and it should have worked the way it was supposed to. But it hadn't, so what had gone wrong? Ferrer ran a hand over his bulbous head and sighed in discontent. He didn't want to be here; as long as he was his future was uncertain. He closed his eyes and pictured himself at home, sitting with his wife in front of a roaring fire, their basset hound spread out at their feet. That was where he wanted to be, why had he gotten involved with these people?

Behind him, the double glass doors breathed open and in strode five men, each dressed in a dark suit and clutching a copy of Ferrer's report. They each took a seat with the youngest looking of the group settling in to the head chair at the opposite end of the table. There came the creasing of leather against fabric and then an uncomfortable silence interrupted only by the occasional grunt as each of the five men looked over the notes provided, the answer of _inconclusive _there for all to see.

Ferrer swallowed hard and looked at the young man at the other end of the table. He was tall and young with tar like hair swept back in a style similar to that of a World War Two-bomber pilot. The base of his face was covered in a sprinkling of dark stubble and his eyes scanned the notes from behind a pair of slim line glasses. He appeared well fed, as you would expect, and had a certain air of superiority around him. Ferrer knew this man to be Chris Greenough; he had been present at last night testing and was in fact the founder and leader of the A.T.L. A particularly ruthless man with a noticeable lack of morals, Greenough had left a career in the culinary industry the moment the transgenics had swept across Seattle like a plague. From what Ferrer had heard, Greenough had been present, working as a waiter on the night that their, now missing specimen, had died, and for some reason gained a particular distaste for their kind. There were many rumours doing the rounds but the most plausible one in Ferrer's mind explained Greenough had discovered a particularly ruthless transgenic had obliterated a small town founded by his grandfather. Therefore this quest he was now on was an act of vengeance; it stood to reason and Ferrer could understand but what he could not understand was how a small time waiter had been able to achieve such power in such a small space of time.

"Hmm," Greenough mused, pulling his head away from the notes and looking down at Ferrer with wide brown eyes. "You have no explanation then?"

Ferrer pulled open his white lab coat and nervously tugged at his tie, he suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. The direct undertones of Greenough's words were intimidating in nature, daring Ferrer to accept a terrible fate. "Well no conclusive explanation."

"A simple no will do Albert," Greenough said with a sneer.

Ferrer sighed, feeling like he was back in grade school receiving a scolding from some know it all teacher. "No, sir…I don't have any solid explanation."

"Albert."

"…Yes."

"Just say no."

Ferrer let his hazel eyes droop downwards, a solid dent hammered into his dignity. "No…"

Greenough breathed a victorious laugh and snapped shut his black binder. "So, we have invested thousands of dollars into your research and after nearly a year you have…" he held out his open palms, "absolutely nothing to show for it."

Ferrer began to feel apprehensive about what was coming his way. "I'm not so sure about that Mr Greenough sir, I mean if you look at my findings then you will see that everything suggests X-Killer-2020 is capable of what we intended. There is really no reason why it should have…"

Greenough held up his hand and Ferrer immediately stopped babbling excuses. "That really does not interest me. All I care about is finding a way to eradicate the vile cockroaches that walk freely amongst us." He turned his head to address the other men who hung on his every word. "I mean, no matter how many times you kill the sods, they always find a way to come back."

There came a unanimous chuckling and Ferrer shifted in his seat. Images of Collins' head set against a deep pool of blood, his throat dribbling his life away, began to tread the freshest regions of his mind. He began to feel sick and a deep sense of regret swelled up inside of him. _Why had he agreed to work for these fascists?_ The money had blinded them; the prospect of unearthing the secrets of a transgenic soldier had been mouth watering. But now…now everything felt undeniably wrong and Ferrer wished he could take it all back.

"So, where do we go from here Albert?" Greenough asked with his hands clasped in prayer.

Ferrer felt the last traces of saliva in his mouth dissipate. "Well, in my opinion, I feel our best option would be to continue with X-Killer-2020. It would be useful to get a hold of the lost specimen in order to ascertain his condition…"

"You know what," Greenough lounged back in his seat, "I think you're right. We are close I can feel it; the final solution is near…so to speak. I have already dispatched teams to hunt down our wayward property so we should have the bastard back within the next few days. However, I feel it prudent to provide you with another specimen to study, wouldn't you agree Albert?"

"Yes…that would be useful, yes indeed, great idea sir."

"Albert?"

"Yes sir…"

"Stop rambling."

_This was humiliating. _"Right away sir." Ferrer replied solemnly.

Greenough drummed his fingers against each other and peered up at the sculpted ceiling. "There are usually quite a few trannies running around at night, we shall deploy teams onto the streets. I want a sample here by tomorrow."

"Right away sir," said one of his obedient lackeys.

"Alright then, we have a plan. I guess we can end this meeting, you are all dismissed." Greenough waved for everyone to leave and Ferrer rose to his feet, relief washing over him. "Oh and Albert, one more thing…"

Ferrer froze, numerous scenarios running through his head, all of them resulting in his death. "Yes sir…"

"Should you fuck up again – yes I do blame you by the way – then I shall have no choice, you will be dealt with…severely."

"Of course sir," Ferrer said, quickly turning and leaving the boardroom with a shining new incentive driving him to help wipe out transgenic kind.

It was freezing and Alec shivered uncontrollably as he frantically rubbed his bare upper body. He wore nothing but a pair of lab trousers that did little to sustain warmth. He was huddled in a gutter down a discreet alley that branched off from a deserted street. Blood was pouring from the cuts in his feet, marks left by the sharp touch of the shattered glass from the laboratory window. Alec didn't care about the pain; he couldn't feel anything past the gnawing cold and could focus on nothing but the blistering confusion in his head.

In the distance he could hear the sounds of nighttime activity: screams, raised drunken voices, shrieking laughter, the thudding bass lines emanating from deep within some underground club. The wailing of police sirens rung through the air and Alec looked up, the noise tearing him from his muddled thoughts.

After escaping his pursuers, Alec had wondered the streets in a dazed trance, not entirely sure of where he was going. He had been given the odd strange look as he passed and each time somebody directed their eyes upon him, he felt a mad rage explode from somewhere inside of him. His mind would begin to buzz with a thousand paranoid thoughts. _They know what you are, they want to kill you, _a foreign voice in his head would whisper, _kill them all, you know you want to, it's the only way to survive._

Feeling like his mind was about to implode if he remained amongst strangers, Alec had sought seclusion, finding it here in a narrow, dank stretch of cracked concrete. He had tried to think about himself and his past but it was like running into a brick wall. He knew his name was Alec a genetically enhanced super soldier, that he had been held against his will and that was it. There were clues to further details, the odd word or name that felt familiar, but every time he followed the thread, a jarring pain would shudder across his skull, preventing him from unearthing anything else.

Alec growled, clenched his fists and held them tightly to the sides of his head. He grabbed tufts of his straggled brown hair and tried to rip through to his mind, find answers to whom he was, where he had come from. There was nothing but a negligible pain as hair came loose in his grasp. He wanted to cry but couldn't, his eyes were not natural and were incapable of such a humane act. _Why were his eyes not fucking natural?_

_They did it too you, all of them…they must be punished. _

Alec collapsed against the cold foundations of the abandoned building behind him. He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky, watching as incandescent stars winked at him from behind a screen of diaphanous clouds. Were they taunting him, did they hold the answers he needed to feel complete? What had happened to him, who was it that talked so freely inside his head? It was not his voice, it belonged to someone else…what did all this mean?

Alec began to feel dizzy and he put his hands against the moist ground to steady himself. Breathing heavily as though he had just been running flat out, he focused his discordant mind and narrowed his eyes on the bleak surface in front of him. There were answers out there somewhere, and he would strive to find them, not resting until the jigsaw was assembled. He gritted his teeth and ploughed a driving fist into the ground, feeling the impact tremor through his bones. A crater was left were he had struck and Alec looked at his unscathed hand; he was certainly strong.

"Hey what are you doing there buddy?"

Alec turned just as he was showered in the blinding light of a policeman's torch. The guy was tall and lanky and his uniform didn't fit him properly. His hand reached down to hover over his holstered gun as he approached. "Are you ok?" he asked again, his face indistinguishable from behind the glaring light.

Alec got to his feet and steadied himself as though he were preparing to meditate. His face pointed to the ground, and he held his arms tightly by his sides. He took a couple of deep breaths and then his eyes darted to the top of his sockets and peered at the cop in front of him. He could hear the voice inside his head, the rage began to build along with the sudden paranoia, and he knew what he had to do.

"Look buddy, have you got nowhere to go or something like that?" the officer asked in a routine and professional voice.

Alec nodded. "I have nowhere to go. I do not know where I belong."

"I see, well you can't stay…"

Before the man could finish, Alec had grabbed his skull and applied all the force he could muster. In moments, the hard bone buckled and collapsed inwards in a bloody and gooey mess. Letting the limp body fall, Alec held up his hands and observed the chunks of skull that clung to his fingers, marvelled as rich red drizzled down his hands. Inside his head he could hear two voices screaming their opinions over what he had had just done.

"_How could you do that," _it was his voice, "_that was murder, you took innocent life. How could you…"_

"_Don't listen to that pussy," _came the unidentified voice,_ "that man wanted to kill you for being what you are, a warrior…the last of a dying breed. You must maintain the values you were bred with…you must unleash hell!"_

Alec let out a tortured wail that resonated in the air. He dragged his hands down his face, smearing blood over his chiselled features and clammy skin. Then something appeared before his eyes, a female face. It was beautiful: a slender nose with quivering ruby lips accentuated her defined cheeks and waxen skin. Tied back hair bordered her enchanting face and crystal tears cascaded from brilliant emerald eyes, like trickling rivers through grassy meadows. Alec's maddened rage softened and he reached out in front of him to touch the angelic image. His fingers felt nothing but air and he knew the image before him was a cruel trick, a hallucination…no; it was a memory. A haunted smile spread across his lips and a name, a clue, drifted into his head. Jess; he needed to find Jess. She was there, present at his rebirth and she held the answers.

With a new purpose, Alec surged into the night in search of the angel he once knew. Jess could help him understand, give him answers and he would stop at nothing to find her. As he ran, he struggled to ignore the voice that forever cried, _oh my god Alec…what have you done!_


	5. Homecoming Introductions

**Chapter 5: Homecoming Introductions **

It was raining again; it always rained in this shitting city. The drops splattered against the side of the large rectangular window and the surface began to steam with condensation, blurring the orange lights that lined the almost abandoned road across from the car park. Max sat and listened to the rhythmic thudding of the drops and looked around at the new faces that had joined Logan, Jess and herself at there, now cramped, table.

Jess sat across from Max looking a lot feebler than she had done the previous year. To begin with there was the obvious state of her face: cuts, only in the foetal stages of healing, spread sporadically across her taught skin and thin lips, and yellow bruising around her cheeks and tired eyes. On top of that there was a thick white scar that tore from the corner of her left eye and another ragged tear in her left cheek that added further character to an already saddened persona. Her hair hung lazily around her face and reached jaggedly past her shoulder. Oddly it's colourful appearance of platinum blonde interspersed with strands of vibrant red and black, conflicted with the haggard distinction that came with days of hard combat and a lack of any proper attempt at washing. Then there was the issue of her weight. Jess had never exactly been overweight or even podgy, far from in it in fact, but she had at least appeared to be properly fed and in a healthy position. Now, however, she looked terribly undernourished, her hooded top far too baggy given it's size, showing off a slither of stomach that receded inwards. Her wrists were scarily thin and didn't look like they could hold up should she ever deliver a blow to solid bone, and a bracelet that should have been tight, given it's elastic nature, lulled loosely and kept slipping down her arm as she moved it in frantic gestures that accompanied her tale.

Max couldn't help but feel bad as she watched Jess, a shadow of the fearsome misguided warrior she had known the previous year, recount a tale of hardship so tragic it could have been worthy of Max's own life. Jess' tale also pinched at Max's conscience, as it had been she who had asked Jess to take care of this dump in her absence. At the time it had felt like the right thing to do as, back then, Max still considered Seattle her home and always planned on returning some day to set up home with Logan by her side. However, having spent twelve months in secluded paradise, Max wanted to be anywhere but here and to see the pain Jess had endured in keeping this hole safe for her…well Max couldn't help but feel a little guilty, especially considering the bliss she had experienced in the same time.

Sat next to Jess was the first of the new faces introduced to Max upon Jess's arrival. Previously known as 'hot boy from the counter,' Max now had a name to put to the hulky mass of handsome transgenic she had been distracted by earlier; and that name was Trick. Apparently Trick was an old friend of Jess', going as far back as her days with Gray in Manticore. His presence bled confidence almost as much as it bled masculinity and he was also incredibly difficult to ignore now he was in Max's vicinity, and not just because of his build. There was a strange draw about him; the nature of his dark eyes screamed charisma and the relaxed nature of his exterior were somewhat relaxing, infectious almost. He had slung an arm around Jess's frail shoulders as she talked and Max couldn't help but note the intended protectiveness of the gesture. She watched as his hand gripped and massaged Jess as she began to let the emotions of her experiences get on top of her, and at times when it looked like Jess might break, Trick had leant over and gently kissed the top of her head. In fact, when Max had thought about it, she would have said these two were in love were it not for the fact Jess had introduced the man as her friend. Still, there was definitely a lot of feeling between the two and despite the brash and cocky nature of Trick, demonstrated by his quick interventions of jest during Jess's tale, Max felt like he was a guy she could trust.

To Max's left, at the head of the unstable table, sat the blue haired girl from the counter. Her name was Chloe and she was also a transgenic. So far she had kept pretty quiet, not really offering her opinion on things like Trick had. Instead, she kept her eyes down and occasionally glanced at Max in an uncertain manner. It would have been unnerving were the girl not so damn innocent, in appearance at least. Her eyes were so captivating, one hazel one green, that if Max caught her gaze she felt like she couldn't move. It was a weird sensation to experience, being lost in the eyes of a stranger, but thankfully Chloe, catching Max staring at her with her mouth hanging open in wonderment, had just smiled, said nothing and continued to listen intently to Jess. She was definitely a young woman, younger than either Jess or Trick and it was clear by her well-groomed appearance and lack of any war scars that she had not been an avid participant in the battles Jess was describing. Still, it was also clear that would not be the case for long as, according to Jess, the reason they were all here at Bannatyne's coffee shop, was to prep for an operation. This young Chloe would get her chance, and Max found herself praying the poor thing would not loose the precious innocence that surrounded her like an invisible aura. It was a commodity so rare these days, especially for a former Manticore soldier, that should you possess it you should do your utmost to retain and not squander it…but then given the situation did she have a choice?

The final new face introduced to Max, sat opposite Chloe and was the proprietor of the coffee shop. His name was Alisdair Bannatyne but he insisted Max call him Ali as, "everyone did." He was the only 'ordinary' person at the table, aside from Logan but since his resurrection, Max no longer considered him 'normal'; and he was one of the few in Seattle who did not bear a grudge against the transgenics. In fact he went out of his way to help Jess and hers, allowing them to use his shop as a point of communication, weapons storage and rendezvous…or – in non-combat hours – to hang out with free muffins and coffee on tap. He was an obvious stoner, given his bleary eyes and green tinged skin and the fact he kept rolling joint after joint as Jess laid the last twelve months out for Max. He would offer it around but no one else seemed that interested, not even Trick who had been an eager participant during his time at the counter. He kept quiet and offered little no emotion as he listened to Jess' tale…and what a tale it was.

It had begun: that was the predominate thought in Max's head as Jess told her of the sudden influx of Familiars into Seattle and the subsequent conflict that exploded between them and the transgenics. The Coming was, for lack of a better term, _coming _and had no doubt sent its foot soldiers out in search of her. That was what Sandeman had told her: _the coming will seek you out for you are the key 452…you are the key to everything._

"And it's not just Familiars we have to deal with…" Trick's gravelly voice ripped Max from her thoughts of last year, post battle with Gray. "There's the fucking A.T.L as well!"

"A.T.L?" Logan inquired, an arm slung protectively around Max. He had initiated the action as soon as Trick had joined them; the presence of another male prompting him to protect what was his. Max smiled and let the feeling of his tight grip wash over her. It felt good when he held her…even if it was a little possessive in this instance.

"The Anti-Transgenic League," Jess explained, "the re-appearance of trangenics sparked the ordinaries into action once more. They've set up all kinds of different groups in protest. Some are militant and others are passive."

"They have a League?" Max asked, her tone a little jest.

"Most of the fuckers are pretty useless, closer to a joke than a threat but the A.T.L; they are the real deal." Trick put in, eyeing Max in a way that caused Logan to tighten his grip. "They got serious numbers and the weapons to cause a lot of damage. In fact I don't know whose killed more of us, the Familiars or the A.T.L."

"They're very disciplined," Jess continued, "very precise and very dangerous. They have substantial financial backing and an actual military force that patrols the street at night in the interests of public safety."

"They even have the consent of the church." Chloe piped up, her voice soft and every word seemingly requiring a Herculean effort to pronounce.

"What?" Max said, turning to petite Chloe, a little surprised that she had chosen now to make herself heard. The voice certainly suited the body, small and timid but with a hint of potential confidence.

Trick chuckled. "Yeah get this shit: apparently we are children of the devil. We are the punishment for years of sin and should anyone wish to walk through the pearly gates, we must first be vanquished."

"You can't be serious," Logan said, his face scrunching in disbelief. Max looked at him quickly, not wanting to miss a moment when Logan's ocean eyes would ignite with a passion lacking since he gave up Eye's Only. Not that he wasn't passionate about their relationship, but when it came to the whole protecting those who can't protect themselves deal, there was a spark in him that Max could not light. She missed that part of him which was strange seeing as in the beginnings of their tenure together she was desperate for him to be passionate about anything but the downtrodden. But now, now she wanted that part of him back and she could see it rising now as a new cause came to light.

"I'm deadly serious, the whole fucking system supports these guys. I wouldn't be surprised if they had the full backing of the entire government. Some of the weapons they carry have to be military issue and they are just too well trained to be your average Joe idiot."

"God damn it!" Logan said, his body tensing. Looked like it was time for Logan the crusader to make a triumphant return, Max thought, along with his trusty sidekick. Max smiled again, her thoughts filtering the seriousness of things to a tolerable level.

"How did they get so powerful?" Max asked, allowing herself to fall a little deeper into Logan's embrace, settling in for a night of questions and answers.

"Nobody knows, their leader is a right idiot," Trick answered with a smirk, " A total nobody, he just seemed to spring up overnight. One minute we were laughing at men with bats, the next we were running for our lives while men in gas masks chased us with motherfucking AK-47's!"

Jess laughed and nudged Trick with her head. Again he kissed the top of her hair and pulled her closer. "Thing's didn't quite go like that, but they were definitely an overnight sensation."

"Certainly adds credence to the idea that they have full backing of some higher power. I mean to garner that sort of force overnight would take a substantial level of authority, on a national level perhaps." Logan said, eyes scanning the floor as though it held the answers.

"So every one wants us dead…what else is new?" Max said bluntly.

Jess smiled. "True, but for a while things were nice…they were peaceful. It's just a shame everything had to fall apart, for all of us."

Max looked at Jess and again her heart panged with sorrow. Jess wanted redemption, she had said as much to Max on more than one occasion last year. Her time with Gray had not been pretty and for a chunk of it she had been consumed by the darkness. But after helping Max kill Gray, the personification of the despair writhing within herself, she had been set free – actually she did more than help, if it weren't for Jess, Max would be dead now and Gray would have free reign of everything. After Gray had perished at _both _their hands, Jess had been granted the chance to live a normal life and find some measure of peace but it was not to be and now she was caught up in another tirade of violence and destruction. It was clearly starting to get to her and Max could understand given all the shit she had dealt with during her stay in Seattle.

"Yeah…" Max wanted to say something more re-assuring but the words wouldn't come. There was a brief pause and everyone looked to each other for something else to say to lighten the mood. It was Logan who picked up the slack and pushed things in a new direction.

"So how many Familiars are we talking here. I mean do they hunt in packs or waves or…"

"Usually in groups of about three, four or maybe five if you're unlucky…" Trick answered, his face melting into a tightened look of annoyance, eyebrows downturn and teeth gripped.

"Like me," Jess added bitterly, a hand coming up to tentatively run along her scar. Max watched her, seeing again the mist of pain that drifted from somewhere deep inside. This girl certainly had a lot of demons an despite her best efforts she could not hide them all. Perhaps now she was back, Max could help her exorcise some…after all she bore similar scars underneath the skin, in her blood and her mind.

Trick gave Jess another squeeze, his arm remaining wrapped around her as though she were something fragile, before continuing. "It's weird, you know, it's like they are hunting us or something. If you're a transgenic, the streets are not a safe place to be at night cos they will seek you out and they will not stop until you are no longer breathing. It's just too much, what with the A.T.L on top of that…" for the first time since they met there was a brief lapse in Trick's confidence that Max could not help but notice, it was almost a sad event to witness, like a lion robbed of it's pride. "We're losing…"he finished.

There was another pause and the air carried the solemn nature to every person sitting at the table. Damn, why was Seattle infected with sadness? Like the rain, it just never seemed to stop, soaking everyone with it's presence and pushing them in it's desired direction. Max scraped her teeth together and Logan sensed the tension in her shoulders and began to rub her arm. Max smiled and tried to relax again.

"There is little we can do in the face of such wilful determination," Jess said, her fingers still trailing the raised flesh that trailed from her left eye to her ear. "Our numbers are few and they are dwindling. Our group used to be fifty strong but that was in the beginning. Now we are down to what?" she looked to Trick.

"Six, six and a half if you count Drake"

Jess smiled and prodded Trick in the ribs, he was a goof but again he had diffused a potential landmine of grief concerning the heavy loss of life. "Yeah we count Drake and he is a whole."

"Whose Drake?" Logan asked

Trick, whose eyes had been lingering on Jess, turned to look at Logan. He grinned, his brazen exterior fully restored to it's shining best. "He's our tech guy, good with computers and all that shit. He works closely with Ali here," Trick reached out and prodded the morose red head who didn't register the contact. "Helps draw up battle plans, gets us blueprints on buildings and potential hit points. All that kind of stuff you know. He's the nerd…"

"So why would he only be a half?" Max asked, sitting forward with interest, but not straying form Logan's hold.

"Well I'm just being mean, but er…he isn't exactly normal…" Trick said with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

Max arched her crayon eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Jess smiled. "Well originally he was just a brain. Manticore created him to be a resource of limitless information so he had no need for any real physical form. He kept malfunctioning on them – something to do with the minds inability to function without some form of vessel to carry it – so they built him a body, a robotic one."

"It wasn't a very good job…" Chloe remarked, her rosy lips pulling back to reveal brilliant white teeth as she shuddered backwards into her seat.

"I would like to talk with him, I might be able to help. I have a past in that sort of thing so…" Logan said, finally showing his desire to get back in the game as it were.

Trick's eyes widened and he directed an almost accusatory finger between Logan and Max. "You two want to join the lost cause?"

Logan laughed and he let his face fall to look at the floor. Max felt his hold on her relax so she prodded him slightly to remind him there was potential competition: she liked the feeling of his warmth and the absent protection it gave her. She may be a super being but she still needed a little T.L.C.

Jess looked at Max. "You think this has something to do with the Coming?"

Max nodded. " Yeah, a couple of weeks back some more symbols appeared on my skin telling me that it was time. That's why we're here."

Jess sighed. "Well it's damned good to see you."

Max returned the smile and a little of the guilt she felt about leaving Jess to the wolves subsided. It was clear she felt no animosity and besides, Max was here now and she would do all that was in her boundless power to make sure that, this time, the transgenics would not be on the losing side of an unjust war. The events at Terminal City still burned her eyes when she thought of them and there was no way she would allow her kin to fall to such a fate again. As for the coming, those Familiar pricks would get everything they deserved and then some, she would see to that.

"Well, if you want to join our little team, first you have to get the consent of our leader." Trick said, his face beaming with a grin

"You mean you're not in charge?" Max asked in a deliberately flirtatious tone, the strengthening of Logan's grip around her the resultant and desired effect.

"Alas I am not…but fuck it I could be if I wanted to…I just didn't want the gig, too much hassle."

"Yeah right, "Jess snorted, "you ain't in charge cos you're useless."

"Am I now and what about you aye, why aren't you in charge?" Trick danced his fingers along her ribs and Jess giggled. There was definitely something going on between these two, Max thought and she smiled; Jess deserved a little happiness after what happened between her and Alec. _Shit_, there came that damned burning in her eyes. Her past was too scarred; it would be best if she could keep her thoughts in the present while others besides Logan were present.

"So whose in charge?" inquired Logan.

"Captain Courageous." Trick replied bluntly, his features set in a stupidly serious posture.

Jess spluttered a laugh into the mug of coffee she had brought to her lips.

"Are you being serious?" Max asked, her eyes tightening as though to dare Trick to try messing her around.

"Yeah," Ali made himself heard. His voice was ridiculously slow and bore a hint of an accent. "Imagine superman and multiply his good guy factor by…two million…and you will get our fearless leader."

Jess' smile broadened and Chloe began to giggle.

"I mean this guy is the epitome of all things good." Trick continued, his voice gathering a mock pride.

"And there I was thinking it was me." Max remarked to Logan who smiled and kissed her forehead.

"I mean, he is a great guy, but damn, he can be so fucking serious about the whole good guy thing. He is a radiant beam of sunshine but you know, too much sunshine gives you cancer…"

Jess looked at Trick in amused confusion. "What the hell are you trying to say?" she stuttered between laughs.

"Just that, you know, he's great but only in small doses."

"I like him," Ali put in

So do I," Chloe agreed.

Trick swung his attention to the tiny blue haired girl. "You like his muscles Chloe, and his smile and his…"

Chloe shrunk into her seat and a red rushed into her cheeks.

"Leave her alone." Jess cried, shoving Trick with a little extra force.

"Ow," he cried clutching his ribs. "I didn't have such a great night either." He exclaimed.

"I would have done a lot more than that!" came a voice from the door of the coffee shop.

Max stopped there and then, she just stopped and she felt Logan do the same. The voice was familiar, an echo from the past and she dared not turn around in case she was right.

Now Trick shrunk back into his seat. "Hi man…I mean sir, boss…" he leaned towards Jess and whispered, "ah shit that's my brownie points down to zero, bet I get the ass end of tonight's job."

Max heard footsteps approach towards her and the voice came again. "What do we have here?"

"New recruits." Trick answered.

Jess got to her feet. "Hey, this is Max, the one I mentioned last night." She turned her attention to Max who swivelled in her seat and saw the past standing in front of her. She could barely hear Jess's voice as she said, "Max this is Zack, the leader of our little rabble."

Ok there we go. New Age Darkness is back and running again. Now I know this chapter may not live up to my claims of BEST DA FIC EVER!!! But I haven't written in a while so I used this as a chance to get a feel for it again. Things will get better and let me tell you, I'm excited about where this is going. Anyway I hope you enjoy this little filler and I really hope you don't hate me…as has been mildly suggested….waaarrrgghh! Peace to all and lets remember the fallen 


	6. Captain Courageous

**Chapter 6: Captain Courageous**

"New recruits?" Zack said in that same firm voice Max remembered. How was she supposed to react to this? Her brother lost for over two years, not dead but then, to Max, not really alive, was now standing in front of her like some corporeal ghost from a life long since passed. Suddenly a thousand memories struck Max like a thousand daggers and she was left gasping for air.

Zack had died for her over two years ago, taking his own life so that she could live in his place, his heart his final gift for his favourite sister. However, he had been denied the heroes death he so richly deserved. Those, now deceased, bastards at Manticore had kept him alive and harvested his organs until there was virtually nothing left. Zack had been torn apart to serve others and still they would not let him rest.

Max had lived believing that her brother had died for her, his heart beating in her chest as a constant reminder of the ultimate sacrifice he had made so willingly. Then, a few months before the tragedy at Terminal City, Zack re-appeared seemingly alive and well…but that was not the case. Due to the 'miraculous' wonders of science, Zack had been rebuilt using advanced robotics and extensive genetic reconstructing. Unfortunately it was not just his body that was given an overhaul, his mind state had been altered as well in yet another cruel twist of fate for both Zack and Max.

Zack had never been keen on Logan, never trusted his relationship with Max believing it made her weak and vulnerable and inevitably one day this vulnerability would result in her death. Of course, as Max was soon to learn after his re-appearance, his feelings cut deeper than that. His love for her went beyond that of brother and sister, he wanted more, more than Max could give. Now because the people at Manticore had a distaste for Eye's Only due to his rather public tarnishing of their organisation on his network, they had used mind bending technology and psycho-therapy to convince Zack that it was Eye's Only who had betrayed them during their incursion into Manticore HQ, the operation that had cost, first Max, and then Zack their lives. Zack possessed intimate knowledge concerning Eye's Only' true identity, that he was in fact none other than his rival Logan, and even though Manticore were oblivious to this, when he eventually crossed paths with Max again he targeted Logan for silencing under the false belief that he had committed the ultimate betrayal to the one person that mattered most.

It hadn't happened in an instant, Zack had begun with little memory of anything from his past, didn't know his name, didn't remember the escape he had orchestrated and he didn't remember his companions; his siblings. But he recognised Max, he could never truly forget her. After a little coaxing however, it all came flooding back with devastating consequences. Zack had tried to kill Logan but thankfully Max had been able to prevent him with the ingenious use of a high voltage power line that also, fortunately, resulted in the reset of Zack's memories. However it was not a permanent cure, whatever Manticore had done was still there, a constant menace that could erupt again at any moment…should he remain in the presence of Max anyway. So it was Max had to choose between the man she loved and the brother to whom she owed so much. It hadn't been easy but in the end she opted to give Zack the chance to live the normal life he so desperately craved. Logan had used his contacts to arrange a whole new existence for him somewhere in a secluded point of peace. Zack would never remember his past or the pain it had brought him and Max hoped finally this wounded soldier, person, could rest.

It had been one of the hardest things Max had ever had to do but in her heart she knew letting Zack go was best for both their sakes. At the very least, Zack had earned the right to live free of Manticore and all it had done to him. Still, she had missed him; especially during Terminal City when it had been her turn to step up to the echelon of leader. It was a lonely place to be and Max had never really known the pressure of such responsibility and how it played on ones mind. It was then that she better understood her brother and his constant concern that often borderline on heartlessness, on the exterior at least. Zack had always been about survival and ensuring the survival of the ones he loved, and Max never really appreciated how hard it had been for him, at least not until he was out of her life forever…or not as was now apparent.

"Not many of those around but I guess we'll take what we can get." Zack said, his face the same as always, charismatic without giving anything away. Zack had always been incredibly difficult to read, he kept everything hidden, locked away so others could not see his weakness. In his mind, he could not allow others to see his failings, as he was the leader, their brother…and Max's saviour.

Zack turned to Logan, seemingly oblivious to the fact Jess had introduced Max to him as the famous entity she had mentioned the prior night. Max watched Logan flinch as Zack extended a hand and thick dimples spread across his face in a rare smile. "Hi, I'm Zack. So you're the famous Max who will solve all our problems?" There was definitely an air of sarcasm in his tone in that instant.

Logan stuttered for a moment and then vigilantly accepted Zack's hand. "Er…actually my name is Logan," he gestured to Max still hugged tightly to his side, "this is Max."

Zack turned and his eyes wondered over Max's form. She held her breath as she waited for the painful process to begin. He would remember her designation first, 452, and then it would all fallout from there. Her name would be next and then all the emotional baggage that came with it would spill all over them, and then the eventual outcome: another attempt on Logan's life. Would she have to kill Zack this time, could she get lucky twice?

Max realised she was holding her breath and she quickly exhaled as she pulled away from Logan. Best not to do anything that could trigger homicidal Zack too quickly. She couldn't go through this again, not after last time…or the time before that. Memories of lying in the Manticore infirmary with Zack's fresh heart beating proudly in her chest bubbled to the surface of Max's mind. That bitch Renfro had tormented her, turning up the constant heart monitor that reverberated the room with the thud of Zack's heart, until she thought she would go insane. _Please not again…_

After what seemed like an age, Zack's eyes tightened and his lips twisted in confusion. "So…you're a girl?" He looked up at Jess who was still standing observing proceedings with a coy smile. Trick had joined her on his feet and was lazily leaning on Jess' shoulder. Chloe still sat, shying away from the situation she knew nothing about and Ali had not so much as winced since he last spoke for all of a few seconds.

"Erm, yeah…" Jess said with a shrug that spurred Trick from a daze.

"Interesting," Zack said with a smirk before extending his hand to Max. "Zack, my name is Zack."

Max tried to quell the shakes that tremored along her arm as she accepted his hand. His grip was assured and she could feel the warm blood that pumped underneath his rough skin. He was real and he was actually here…Max couldn't believe it. Her mouth was dry and she had to force herself to speak. "Hi, I'm Max," the words came out a little croaked and Max hoped no one would pick up on her nervous disposition.

"Well alright, I take it they're accepted?" Trick's booming voice practically caused Max to jump from her seat. "No we're eight and a half strong; look out world." He thrust a determined, if not a little vitriolic, fist of power into the air. Jess nudged him again and he began to nudge her playfully. Max noticed a twitch in Zack's eye and a flicker in his lips, was he jealous? _Shit, not again!_

"Yeah, if Jess trusts you guys then I guess you're in…even the ordinary." Zack said with a nod towards Logan.

Here we go, Max though already feeling the friction developing between the two. On the bright side though, he hadn't called him a dirty traitor and grabbed him by the jugular, so maybe there was hope.

Logan smiled. Max knew it was a false smile, he had used it many a time when she had been in a mood and, perhaps, a little unreasonable with her demands of him over the past year. Max could see through it, but it had taken her months to hone the skill. He disguised it well; a natural talent from being a covert underground cyber-journalist, and she doubted Zack would notice the insincerity behind it. "Not all of us ordinaries of bigoted bastards," Logan said, his voice wavering, betraying the mask his face wore so well.

"That's…true. I agree with Logan here, we people can be quite reasonable…when we ain't got our heads firmly rammed up our arse." Ali said with a quick flicker of his eyes that looked incredibly sore.

"I know…" Zack smiled at Logan and again Max waited for him to go off on one. This was almost unbearable; the tension and anxiety of Zack's presence was almost enough to tear her apart. He was a potential landmine just waiting for either she or Logan to put a foot wrong and then BANG, everything would be blown apart again. Max couldn't cope with that, not on the first night of her return.

Still, at least things seemed amiable for now and everyone else appeared oblivious to the uneasiness that simmered quietly underneath the pleasantries. Of course Logan felt it; the sweat upon his brow indicated as much, it was his ass on the line here after all. Taking a few moments to reflect upon things, Max decided just to go along with things and let everything slide the way it was meant to. If there was a shit storm coming her way, and it wouldn't be the first time one was forecast for her life, then she would just have to deal with it when the time came.

"Right then," Trick said with a clap of his hands, perhaps feeling the awkwardness setting in, "what's the plan for tonight, bearing in mind we have three rookies and two injured."

"Three rookies?" Max asked, swivelling in her seat.

"Yup, Chloe here has never been out in the field. Fairly obvious when you look at her get up."

Chloe kicked Trick in the shin. "I look positively glowing," she argued.

"I ain't denying that girl, you look damn fine, but a hot skirt and itty bitty top just ain't practical for slaying evil motherfuckers…is it?" Trick replied with a devilish grin while massaging his leg: Chloe was small but she was till a transgenic.

Max smiled, Trick was certainly enigmatic and she felt her body relax; his presence was just so damn calming and his imperturbable exuberance so damn contagious. Feeling a little safer, for the time being at least, Max allowed herself to drift a little closer to Logan as Zack took a seat next to Ali and both Trick and Jess resumed their places. Again Trick slung an arm around Jess and pulled her close to his chest. She began to play with the crucifix around his neck and again Max noticed Zack's eyes linger on the two for a little longer than was probably necessary.

"Alright, are you two down for this?" Zack asked while glancing between Max and Logan. Again Max felt a pang in her stomach but it was not as prominent. In her shocked state she had forgotten about her new and improved state. If there was any trouble, she was powerful enough to handle it. Besides, she should be happy to see the brother she loved so much, even if there was a potential threat, and anyway, the bigger mystery here was how Zack had found out he was a transgenic and subsequently resumed his position as leader of all.

Max felt Logan's hand reach for hers under the table. He obviously needed re-assurance – this whole Zack thing had just as big an effect on him as she – so she gave him a tight squeeze. He winced slightly as again she forgot her own strength.

"Well that's good to hear cos we really need the extra man power for tonight." Zack said, now addressing the entire group gathered round the small table.

Jess sighed and let her head fall against Trick's chest.

"I'm sorry Jess…I know you've had it tough…"Zack said with a genuine concern present in every word.

"It's ok," Jess replied meekly. She glanced over at Max and smiled, "I have a feeling things might be ok…for tonight at least."

Max smiled at Jess and chose to ignore the look of doubt cast her way by Zack. Jess had faith in her and for some reason; she found this oddly inspiring and empowering. Yes, she was the most powerful creation known to man, but she wasn't field-tested. There was no guarantee that she was as good as her rock breaking antics suggested and so the confidence of others was more than welcome.

"Well people, tonight will be a hit on the A.T.L." Zack declared, taking time to gauge the reactions of the others. Jess and Ali, surprisingly, were unmoved while Chloe shifted cautiously.

Trick grinned. "My man," he murmured softly.

"One of Drakes contacts caught wind that they would be receiving a shipment of weapons tonight. He managed to acquire the location so I had Red and Travis carry out some recon earlier today and it turns out Drake was right on the money. The target point will be a small warehouse located on the east side of town near the downtown market." Continued Zack.

"What kind of resistance?" Logan asked, his sense of duty beginning to override the caution he should have been taking with regards to Zack.

There was a pause.

"Minimal at best but heavily armed." Zack answered

"Fuckers are always packing serious heat…fucking pussies!" Trick put in with a growl. Jess looked up at him and pressed her forehead against the base of his curved jaw. Clearly she knew where his disdain for the A.T.L and their guns stemmed from. Max's best guess; he had lost a lot of friends…

"Will Red and Travis be there?" Chloe asked, while nervously playing with her fingers on the polished surface of the table. Max looked over at the tiny girl, her dramatic eyes brimming with the apprehension that came with her inexperience. Max could still remember the fear she had felt on her first real operation, her escape from Manticore. No matter how good the training, there was nothing you could do about fear. Some handled it better than others – Max herself had learnt to suppress the feeling – but there was no escaping it and that was a good thing. Fear was a good tool for guidance in combat and what's more, it let you know you were still alive. Chloe's fear would serve her well tonight and if not, Max would look out for her.

"Yeah, they're currently on site. The convoy is expected to arrive at midnight tonight…"

"Bit of a stereotypical time: tonight, midnight, be there or be square…" Trick said, quickly trailing off as no one seemed to get his attempt at humour, or just plain found it unfunny.

"Moving on…"

Trick buried his face into Jess' hair, who grinned as she continued to play with the crucifix. Her eyes seemed sleepy and her lids drooped to mask the grassy emerald of her irises. She seemed contented, safe in Trick's arms as though it was where she belonged. Max smiled; they made a good couple…but obviously not in Zack's eyes who once again reacted to the two with more than a whiff of jealousy, his teeth coming together and remaining gritted even as he began to talk again.

"There will be three incursion points. The first is located to the north," Zack reached into the inside pocket of the leather jacket that covered his tight red shirt, and pulled out a ragged map drawn by hand. He put it down on the table so everyone could take a look. It showed a large warehouse type, squared building with a car park in front of the main entrance and a couple of smaller buildings surrounding it's left and right side. It wasn't well drawn but it was clear enough.

"Red and Travis will take this route," Zack used his thumb to trace some pipes that snaked round the rear of the main building. "It leads through an unused ventilation shaft that extends to some construction platforms near the ceiling. They will observe from the inside and once they have visual confirmation of the presence of the weapons they will signal for the other two teams to move in. One team will enter via a hatch on the roof. Of course you will first have to get up there but that shouldn't be a problem for us transgenics and besides, we have rope so we can just drop right in on top of them." Zack paused to clear his throat. "The second team will take an underground sewage tunnel that leads underneath the building," he traced the route with his thumb as it had not been drawn on, "and has an open point inside the building. They can spring up on them quickly and without warning so hopefully we'll catch the fuckers sleeping…hopefully."

"Is this intelligence reliable?" Logan asked, musing over the makeshift map.

Zack looked at him for a moment. Max waited with baited breath and then let out a sigh of relief as a small smile spread across Zack's face. "It's as good as we're going to get," he said.

"Alright," Trick said, his voice taking a much more serious note to it, "whose in which team. We got Red and Travis as the eyes so whose the muscle?"

Zack looked around the table. "Chloe, Logan, you're with me. We'll take the sewage route. Jess you will lead Trick and Max up to the roof."

Max felt her heart stop for a moment; Zack and Logan together without her there to ensure things didn't get out of control. She opened her mouth to reject but Logan squeezed her hand, grabbing her attention. She looked across at him and watched as he slowly shook his head, discreetly so no one else but she could see. There was intensity to his blue eyes and not a trace of fear. Max new her own eyes were wide with worry, her lips dragging downwards, and Logan could see this, but still he seemed content to go along with this plan, not sharing her doubt. Why was he ok with this? Yeah Zack was her brother, but did Logan not remember what happened last time? She couldn't allow the two of them to go unsupervised. Without her presence, there was nothing to stop Zack from carrying out the final desire of their Manticore peers…she couldn't lose Logan, not again!

"Sound like a plan," Logan said, not taking his eyes from Max whom just stared right back at him, shaking her head in disbelief. This was stupid, too risky and why was he happy with things to go his way? He should be with her on this, insisting that he goes with her.

"Good shit," Trick said as he got to his feet, easing Jess from his lap, and walked over to the counter. Ali followed suit and together they began to rummage behind the counter placing large cases out amongst the many biscuits and cakes that sat in pristine display cases.

Zack gave Logan a nod. "Sorry to break you apart from your girl here, but the sewage route is much safer than the roof and I would prefer to take the most vulnerable with me."

Max looked at Zack in wonderment: forever the elder brother, always looking out for those under him.

"It's Chloe's first time out in the field and, no offence here, but you're just an ordinary." Zack turned towards Max. "Don't worry he'll be safe, I'll see to it. I _never _lose anybody first time out."

Despite her doubts, the fire in Zack's words and behind his blue eyes seemed to re-assure her. They didn't clear her concerns completely but they certainly began to dwindle. She knew she couldn't trust the situation but there was just something about Zack in that moment…something was different and Max wanted nothing more that to be able to trust her brother again.

"Alright kids come get your shit!" Trick called out.

Zack, Jess and Chloe got to their feet and walked over to the counter. Max quickly seized the opportunity to grab a word with Logan. "Shit!" was all she could get out in a hushed whisper.

"I know," Logan whispered back, "it will be ok, we will talk later I promise but now, now we have a job to do."

"But Logan!" Max hissed not understanding his flippant attitude. This was a huge deal, could he not see it!

Logan didn't answer. He kissed her quickly and then made his way over to the others. Max gave in and followed him finding the others musing over various weaponry spread out across the counter. There were pistols, mini-machine guns, body armour vests, rope, knives and other blades. Max looked at the various instruments of death and shuddered. It wasn't like she was a stranger to the whole deal of taking life but she hated it, especially when weapons were involved. Logan saw the distaste creep over her face and he put an arm around her waist. Max forced a smile, he may be ignoring her but at least he was still here to comfort her.

Everyone mused over the weapons and began to gear up; pulling on vests and attaching holsters and sheaths for the blades. Trick pulled on a pair of shoulder holsters and grabbed a couple of Glock pistols fitting them snugly into the pouches under his arms. He grinned, "Now that's the shit you need."

Jess smiled at him and proceeded to apply some throwing knives to the band she had wrapped around her right leg, the tight material squeezing her baggy jeans right to the flesh of her thigh, revealing the skinny nature of her legs.

Zack, who was busy fitting a pair of S.M.G's to the holsters that sat either side of his hips, looked at Max as she stood with her arms crossed around her front, fingers intertwined with Logan's. "Do you not need anything, it always helps to have something to shoot back with."

Max turned to look at Zack. He, more than anyone else, knew where her distaste for firearms stemmed from and why she would never use one no matter what the circumstances. But then of course he couldn't remember anything of their past together and if he did, then things now would be a whole lot worse. Max felt her stomach twist into a knot as past wounds threatened to re-open with a vengeance. She needed to come up with an excuse that didn't even hint at the truth. "I prefer to use my hands…" Zack looked at her doubtfully, one eyebrow raised; he wasn't buying it. "I'm far more deadly, just wait and see." She added quickly, relieved that she had at least told a half-truth. After all, given her complete state, she most likely would be more deadly unarmed.

"Ok people, don't' forget extra ammo, cos there's no guarantee on the numbers we will be facing. Better to be ready before being fucked." Trick said as he helped Jess with her vest, giving her some much needed bulk to her upper body.

Zack cast a look towards Trick. "I'm sorry I couldn't get definite Intel…"

"Not a problem," Trick cut in, surprised Zack had seen his comment as a complaint, "I was just covering bases."

Max stole a chuckle inside; nothing like watching a couple of love rivals…so long as Logan wasn't involved.

"God this shit is heavy!" Chloe squeaked. She did look rather strange with a heavy body vest complete with holstered guns and knives, rounded off with a mini tartan skirt that displayed her seductive and pale legs. Trick walked over to her and pulled on the shoulders of the vest. He kissed her head and the pout fell from her lips.

"Don' worry baby girl, you look wonderful."

"Thanks," she said wrapping her small arms around his large frame.

"Ok then, are we go?" Zack asked, looking around the group.

There came nods of agreement and inaudible murmurings as the fear of potential deaths set in. It had been a long time since Max had been in such an atmosphere and it wasn't as exhilarating as she remembered. This wasn't her world anymore and she fully intended to retire just as soon as she kicked the remaining asses that remained to be kicked, namely the A.T.L and whatever the hell the Coming turned out to be.

Logan had grabbed a modified pistol and holster, securing the strap around his waist and lower thigh. Unfortunately he wasn't wearing the exo-skeleton that gave his legs a huge boost of enhanced strength. Upon entering Bannatyne's, neither of them had expected a quiet coffee and slice of cake to result in a covert operation. The device was, therefore, still in the car but it seemed like they wouldn't have the time to retrieve it. Max would have slept safer knowing he was wearing it but it looked like she would just have to deal with the uncertainty.

Zack looked around at the faces before him. "Alright people, remember your shit and we will do fine. I want this to go smooth, god knows we've had enough cock ups to last a lifetime so let's not do it in front of the rooks."

There came the calming sound of idle laughter.

"Take care out there and keep it together. I want us all to return, is that clear?"

There came a silent agreement.

"Alright lets move out, vehicles are ready. Stick to your groups and lets pull this bitch off!"

There came another silent pause and then Trick let out a resounding whoop. "Alright lets fucking do this, come on!" He slung an arm around both Jess and Chloe and led them out into the cold, wet night.

"Take care and be safe, I'll have a pot on the go for when you get back!" Ali called out.

Max looked up at Logan who gave her a warm smile. She reached up and kissed him softly. "Be safe," she whispered, pressing her head against his chest.

"You too," he replied as he led her outside, stroking the full length of her waist length black hair.

Zack watched the two lovers leave and then rested a shotgun across his shoulders. He sighed heavily and turned to Ali. "Once again, if anything should happen to me…"

"I know what to do…" Ali replied. "You just make sure you come back dude."

Zack smiled and then turned to the door of the shop. He started to leave when suddenly the smile fell and he cocked his side to one side. _452: that girl's designation was 452._ Zack shook himself down and tried to dismiss the case of deja vu that had just washed over him before following outside.


	7. Girl Talk

**Chapter 7: Girl Talk**

They had only been driving through the wet streets of Seattle for ten minutes at most, but that short space of time had been more than enough for Max to work herself into a frenzy. She sat – with Jess opposite her and Trick up front driving casually with one hand – nervously shifting on the metal extension that served as a bench like seat in the rear compartment of a time tested white van.

God knows what potential disasters could have happened in the second van, Max pondered nervously. She knew leaving Logan alone with Zack was a bad idea and not just because Zack could lose his mind at any moment and consequently make an attempt on Logan's life; it was the uncertainty of the unknown that was really getting to Max now as it hung over her like a raging thunder cloud raining misery upon her thoughts. She hated the feeling when circumstances were out of her control, especially when Logan was concerned. It was perhaps one of the worst and most sobering feelings one could experience; knowing that there is virtually nothing you can do to influence a sequence of events involving your life, nothing except sit back and surf the tide to whatever soul destroying outcome there may be waiting for you at the end.

Max bit down on her lip and focused on the rusty upholstery that constituted for the interior of the battered white van she was currently bumping around in. It was warm, stuffy even, and excessive music wailed around the metal sides of the vehicle as Trick directed them to their destination.

"What the hell is this?" Max yelled over the racket, deciding to direct her frustrations onto something within her immediate sphere of influence. The noise coming from the stereo was a prime target. It had not been helping matters as thunderous drums joined with furious guitar playing to form a platform for some angry man to scream and half sing along to. It was a sound so fierce it seemed to dig into Max's skull and join with her concerns for Logan, resulting in a mind-melting recipe for disaster.

Trick, and Jess for that matter, seemed quite content to bop along to the yells of, 'get the fuck out, stay the fuck out," but Max was having none of it, not in her current wound up condition. She didn't want to get the fuck out, even if she did; she certainly wouldn't want to stay the fuck out, what with the heavy rain and all. No, all Max wanted to do was teleport to the other vehicle a few hundred yards ahead of them, and ensure Logan was still breathing, thus putting her frantic mind at ease. _Damn Gray, why couldn't he have had the power to teleport?_

Trick swivelled in his seat to give Max a grin that spread from ear to ear. "Ain't it great?" he shouted, displaying an alarming lack of concern for road safety. "It's from before the pulse, they had all the good shit back then."

Max scowled. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Trick paused to quickly glimpse at the road, ensuring they weren't heading into a wall, and then directed his attention back to Max. "It took me fucking ages to find this little gem," he nodded in the direction of the stereo, " Slit Wrist Theory by 36 Crazyfists."

Max, her face arranged in bewilderment, turned to look at Jess who just shrugged, her sculpted cheek rising to puff out as best it could in a look of _don't ask._

"Ah come on, you have to love this shit Max! No?" Trick waved a dismissive hand in Max's direction and turned back to the road, his head still jerking along with the music.

Jess laughed softly to herself and then cast her eyes down to her lap where her hands were clasped between her slender legs. Max looked across at her, she looked so timid – excusing the hulking flak jacket and holstered weaponry – it was almost sad. The hood of her top slouched over her hair, masking the top half of her face and shadowing the rest. She kept pursing her cut lips and every now and then she would shudder, strange given the humid nature of the darkened van.

"Are you ok?" Max asked, leaning forward to grab Jess' attention over the racket Trick seemed so in love with.

Jess looked up and smiled weakly. "Yeah just a little tired."

"No," Max shook her head, "I mean in general. I only ask cos you look so…"

"Terrible?" Jess finished.

Max laughed. "No…well yeah but not in a mean way or anything like that."

"It's ok, I know what you mean…" she sighed and rested her head against the side of the van. Her face tilted slightly to the left and her eyes diverted from Max to the floor. "It's just…it's just been a hard year that's all, nothing major."

This time Max sighed. It was clear, crystal clear now, that something was bothering Jess to a large degree, but it was also clear that she wasn't ready to share her problems, at least not with Max. This being the case, there was nothing Max could really do for her. Pressing for an explanation probably wouldn't help, not in the least, and so the best thing Max could do for Jess was to be there if and when she came for help or advice.

Max mimicked Jess' posture and let her head press against the cold steel behind her, listening as the heavy drops of rain impacted with the outer surface of the van. She looked over at Trick and watched as scythes of yellow light cut through the windscreen in a regular pattern as they passed under a gauntlet of overhanging street lamps.

Just what could be bothering Jess so much, causing her to dwindle so? Had her own self styled despair swallowed her whole, consuming every ounce of her and leaving nothing but guilt and an insatiable desire for redemption? If so, then what could be done? It was obvious to anyone willing to look closely, that Jess regretted her tattered past, the evil she had bathed in with her companion; which was expected of any standard person with a basic morale code. But the problem with Jess was she could not get past her own conscience. If she could not find a way to forgive herself for her past crimes then she could never move on. Max had forgiven her, it still stung to think that she was a participant in bringing so much misery into her life, but it was obvious that she was sorry and willing to do whatever she could to set things right, and that was enough.

Of course this was not the case for everyone. Max knew that Logan still bore a slight distrust towards Jess and Max couldn't blame him for that. He still ached over the tragic loss of his friend Asha last year and, although Jess was not directly responsible, she had admitted to playing a major role in the event. Perhaps it was little things like this that kept Jess tied to the salivating demons that seemed to trail in her wake consuming her anguish…perhaps not it wasn't; Max couldn't tell. Maybe this was just fate, Jess' fate, and – like the current situation concerning Zack and Logan – there was nothing that could be done…but then that was just too wretched to accept.

"Are you ok?" Jess asked, stirring Max from her sluggish daze.

Max looked across at her. No, she wasn't ok but neither was she able to share her worries. She couldn't tell Jess about her concerns over her well being, or about her distress concerning Logan's welfare and the connections it had with Zack, any more than Jess could tell her about whatever it was bothering her. "I'm fine," Max said at last, before adding with a smile, "just a little tired."

Jess recognised the implied humour and grinned. "Well it's good to know we're both ok."

Max chuckled softly then, feeling her mind wondering to thoughts of Zack choking Logan with a screaming Chloe looking on, decided to engage Jess in a topic she might discuss – and also one she found particularly interesting. " So you and Trick, anything there?"

Jess took a surprised breath and raised her wafer thin eyebrows. "What do you mean?" she asked in a politely insulted tone.

Max smiled impishly. "You know what I mean. You two seem…close."

"Well I have known him my whole life, ever since Manticore."

"Yeah you mentioned that, but you didn't mention you were so touchy feely with one another."

"There's nothing wrong with a little affection between two close friends," Jess protested in a hushed whisper barely audible above the roaring music and the groaning engine.

Max's smile broadened until her cheeks compressed her eyes to wrinkled slits. "So you never even think about taking that affection a step further?"

Jess looked over at Trick and tucked her bottom lip underneath her top one, elongating her chin in a cute expression of consideration.

"You paused, that means you have." Max declared proudly, crossing her arms victoriously in her lap.

Jess turned sharply towards Max with a glare. "Bullshit!" she cried, her hand immediately coming to her mouth in a gasp.

"What's bullshit?" Trick asked, Jess' cry alerting him to the conversation behind him.

"Erm…" Jess stammered, seething at Max with wide eyes.

"Girl stuff," Max answered.

"What sort of girl stuff?" Trick asked, his voice heightening with intrigue.

"Menstrual cycles," Jess replied, hoping the natural male fear of 'woman's problems' would kick in and he would let it go.

No such luck.

"Do transgenic females still get that cos I've always wondered whether they do…I mean I've always wanted to ask but…" Trick paused for a moment. "Actually come to think about it, you do don't you cos like, you can get pregnant." He turned towards the two females in the van. "Right?"

"Right and it's not something you want to hear about," Jess said, reaching over and pushing Trick's face back to the road, a svelte finger hovering long enough to play with his bottom lip.

"I saw that." Max said as Jess sat back down.

"Saw what?" Jess asked through gritted teeth.

Max raised one eyebrow. "I can't blame you, it's like an old friend of mine once said: Manticore sure know how to make them pretty."

Jess groaned and her neck began to sink into her shoulders as she allowed her spacious hood to engulf more of her face. "So he's pretty, I can admit that." She said quietly, "Doesn't mean I want to jump his bones. I'm not so desperate that I feel an irresistible need to dive onto any attractive guy I come across."

"Yeah but for you it's not like he's just some hot guy, he's someone you know completely and who knows you…kind of like Logan and I."

"Speaking of which, how has it been for you guys?" Jess asked.

"I know you're trying to change the subject," Max said, rolling her eyes.

"So?" Jess shot back, a little rosy colour finally rising underneath her waxen complexion. "The current subject isn't sitting too well with me."

Max laughed. "Ok we'll move onto me."

"Thank you."

"Things have been good, really good. In fact they've been amazing. The past year has been perfect, nothing to worry about except Logan and myself, just complete selfish bliss. Never in my life have I woken up every day with such a relish for the coming hours. It was like…I don't know, like my world was finally complete or something. Just to have him around made everything feel right, like it was the natural order of things. It's something I never want to lose…" Max sighed wistfully, her mind drifting back to times strolling through vast and dense woodland, late evenings dining in with wine and fine home-cooked cuisine, warm summer days skinny dipping in the cool lake and fresh nights gazing at far off stars. Over the past year, she and Logan had never been apart for more than a few hours at a time and they never grew tired of each other's company…it was indeed a period of perfection.

"Sounds like you had quite a time," Jess said quietly. A smile spread across her face, a genuine smile that shone in her eyes. "I'm really happy for you, both of you."

"Thanks…" Max said, her voice a little sad as she realised she was once again in the thick of potential chaos and danger.

There was a pause and both Max and Jess took a moment to reflect, the only sound coming from the latest eardrum-bursting track on Trick's mix cd.

"Can I ask you a question?" Max said, her mind - dabbling with thoughts of Jess, romance and the past – had come around to a certain young man who should have been with both her and Jess at this moment.

"Sure,"

"Do you ever think about Alec?"

There came a moment when everything seemed to stand still…

Jess stopped, her tired eyes suddenly intense with a glaze that reflected the fluctuating light intruding upon the vehicle. "Sometimes," she said, the word broken into multiple tones as she forced the sound from her mouth, clearing her throat after the effort.

"You miss him don't you?" Max said, realising that she might have just opened a can of worms. She knew that Jess had taken a shine to the handsome and alluring Alec, but she had no idea the mere mention of his name would provoke this kind of reaction. When Max heard the name her heart would skip a beat, of course it would; Alec was her friend and he didn't deserve to die in such a way – but with Jess the name had her almost paralysed in an instant.

Jess nodded briefly, a wavering hand coming up to wipe the corner of her eye. A laugh escaped her mouth, a sound of joy diluted by the heartache that had pushed it from her lips. "God…" she said, her hand again wiping at her eyes. "Yeah I do…fuck, I'm being silly."

"I didn't realise you guys were so close…"

"We weren't…not really," Jess laughed, again the noise broken apart with interjections of mournful whimpers. "It's just I always relate Alec with a moment in my life that – and I know this will sound stupid – that was, well, special."

Max smiled with a mixture of concern and intended encouragement. She could be here for Jess now, the beginnings of her problems now bubbling over at the mention of a name. "Want to share?"

Jess paused for a brief few moments. "Well, when I first met Alec I was in the middle of a crisis of faith. I had all these emotions that felt so foreign buzzing around inside of me and I just couldn't make sense of them all. I was beginning to doubt the things that I had done, you know with Gray, and then after the night I spent with Alec…that was when I finally made sense of everything. I don't know why it happened that morning but it did…"

"What?"

"I realised I was free…and I felt…happy. It was strange cos I had spent so long walking around blinded to the truth of the feelings I thought I was experiencing – like joy and love and all of that shit. That day, as I watched Alec trail away, everything just clicked and I…I was, fucking, truly happy! The darkness relinquished its hold and I was overwhelmed. Alec was a symbol for that moment and so he will always be special to me." Jess slowly pulled her hood away from her face, her bruised and broken skin now marred by the more painful wounds left by burning tears, moist trails running down the angular curves of her cheeks and jutting towards her mouth before lingering on the edge of her chin…then falling…

Max wasn't quite sure of what to say.

Jess had just shared an incredibly intimate moment in her life and Max found a lump forming in her own throat. She had never truly gotten over the events of last year and to hear someone else talk so openly of their own experiences of the same events, brought everything she had gone through back to the fore.

Terminal City: Sketchy, Cindy, and so many others she had failed to protect.

Gray.

Alec.

Asha.

Even Logan and Jess.

"What about Gray, do you ever think about him?" Max said, forcing herself to speak.

"I try not to, but he isn't someone you can forget easily, especially for me. He had such a presence on my life that he will always be in my thoughts, not always directly, but always there."

"I know what you mean," Max said with a nod. Her twin would always be with her as well, for many different reasons; the scars he had left upon her mind, the people he had taken from her and his blood, currently cursing through her veins, would always be with her as a reminder.

Jess reached down to her stomach for a moment and then looked at Max. "You know, you never explained how Logan and I managed to survive that night."

Max grinned, relieved that Jess was making an attempt to alleviate the tenebrous feeling that had crept over both of them. _How the fuck had they gone from gossiping about boys to talk of life changing moments and re-living past pains. _"I could tell you…"

Jess chuckled, "you don't know do you?"

"Oh I do and I tell you what: after all is said and done here, the Coming is vanquished, the A.T.L downsized and all the familiars run out of town…then I will share the secret with you. Deal?"

"Deal," Jess agreed, reaching out to slap Max's offered hand.

With that the two sat back for what little remained of their journey. Soon it would be game time and the only thoughts should be of survival. Still, each found their mind wondering. Max slipped back into worry overdrive, thoughts of losing Logan sapping the last saliva from her mouth and kneading her stomach into a tangled mess. As for Jess, she sat back and allowed her mind and her eyes to do the wondering in unison as she spied on the form of Trick sitting up front. Alright, she could finally admit it; she had fallen in love with him.


	8. Boy Talk

**Chapter 8: Boy Talk**

Was it possible to sweat yourself to death? Logan wasn't entirely sure but he really hoped it wasn't as multiple beads of perspiration began to trickle down his face from the lake that was his forehead. He was drenched, pungent pools forming underneath his arms and behind his knees, pressed a little too firmly against the warm leather seat, more out of agitated fear than anything else. He could feel the physical uneasiness spreading all over his body as beads weeped down his spine, his chest and, of course, his face. Some dollops managed to seep between his lips giving him a sour taste of his own fear; it did not taste good, it did not feel good and Logan wished he could have full control of his bodily functions.

His clothes were damp and clammy, given the sweltering temperature of the van, and they stuck to his muggy skin with pit-bull tenacity. This was a most uncomfortable condition to be in, especially when you were just a few minutes away from a covert assault on some evil weapons dealers. At this rate the bastards would catch a whiff of Logan long before they arrived.

Back at the café, he had tried to appear confident for Max's benefit and, at the time, Logan actually believed he was and that he would be ok with riding along with Zack without her. This alas was not the case, painfully clear now, as he was rapidly becoming the walking liquid man. Logan tugged at the collar of his khaki shirt and felt the material drag against his saturated body. The hairs on his legs began to feel cold as he shifted in his seat, dragging them away from the little steam bath they had made for themselves. God this was awful.

Much of the journey had been spent in silence. Logan and Zack had sat in the front of a van seemingly held together by sheer will alone. Chloe sat in the gloomy back compartment, quietly playing with her nails. Occasionally she would glance up to look at either Logan or Zack, but she didn't speak. She was most likely riddled with nerves and couldn't find it in herself to force words from her throat, instead using all her energy to focus and prepare for what was to come.

What was to come? Logan wondered. Would he even make it to the warehouse, or would Zack have a sudden flash back and make a lunge for him. Logan may have survived death in the past, but that was because Max had been present with some, out of this reality, benevolent power. Now he didn't really fancy his chances with old Grim, especially when his means would be a large transgenic with a suppressed grudge.

During the awkwardly silent journey, Logan ensured he was pressed firmly against the door, far from Zack's immediate reach, and he had kept a hand close to the modified pistol suspended by his right leg. It was holstered and covered by a flap he had secured before leaving, an action Logan bitterly regretted now as it meant, if there was a sudden need for a weapon, he would have to unbuckle the flap before he could draw the pistol to fire. He couldn't unbuckle it now while Zack's attention was focused on the road, such an action would cause suspicion and the last thing he wanted right now was to explain things to the object of his apprehension.

Logan looked out at the street before him, currently distorted by the heavy stream of rain that seemed to be worsening by the second. It was like driving through a wall of water and the drops pattered constantly against the metal exterior of the vehicle. It sounded like an army was marching above them, their steps solid and resounding as they echoed in Logan's ears, constantly drumming and never ending. There was little light, the street lamps' efforts hampered by a thick fog that accompanied the downpour, and Logan struggled to see much of anything beyond the fifty feet lit up in front of them by the van's feeble headlights.

"Are you ok?" Zack asked suddenly, taking a moment to glance at the puddle sitting next to him.

Logan practically leapt out of his seat, his body jerking awake and his stomach lurching in panic. What had Zack just asked; did he want to kill him? "What?" he stammered, looking across at Zack who stole another glance his way.

"Are you ok?" he asked again, this time his voice polluted by a slight amusement.

Was he ok? No he wasn't ok. For the entirety of this journey he had been laying kittens, sweating profusely and cursing his own stubborn male pride for trying to act so damn confident in the presence of Max. At this moment, there was nothing Logan wanted more than to be with her, holding her and cowering behind her…_god that was so pathetic, _Logan thought to himself. He was being stupid now and he still hadn't given Zack an answer to his perfectly innocent question. "Yeah, I'm fine…" he said with as much bravado as he could muster.

"Really?" Zack raised his eyebrows. "So you're just a naturally sweaty guy eh?"

Logan sighed; horrified Zack had noticed his current, unpleasant demeanour. Still it was bound to happen; in fact Logan should be surprised it took so long for one of his two companions to notice. His condition was so bad an ordinary person with ordinary senses could pick up on it with relative ease, let alone a genetically enhanced super soldier with senses ten times that of mere ordinaries. Feeling suddenly embarrassed, Logan opted to defend himself as best he could without actually telling the truth. "Oh…no, it's just me and heat don't really get along well. It's a terrible thing; you should see me in the summer…" he laughed nervously

"I see," Zack said with a hint of doubt, "would you like me to turn the heating down?"

"If it's not too much trouble…"

"Why would it be troublesome?"

"I'm not saying that it would…erm…it's just…"

Zack grinned as he leant over and turned the heating dial down. The purring sound of rushing air quickly subsided to a gentle whistling that melted into a simple accompaniment to the sound of the rain. Feeling absurdly awkward, Logan rested his head against the cold window to his left and muttered a quiet thanks to Zack who, in turn, nodded in acknowledgement.

The glass felt good, the cold a welcome tonic to the heat that bubbled underneath Logan's skin. He sighed in appreciation and closed his eyes, allowing himself to steal a moment of relaxation. He focused on the symphony of sound around him; the screeching and flapping of the window wipers as they struggled with the rain, and the natural drumming of the water drops themselves that, combined, made for quite a pleasant orchestra.

"So, you and Max huh?" Zack said suddenly, his gaze still intent on the road ahead.

Logan turned slightly, not taking his face from the glass, and looked at Zack from underneath a raised eyebrow. An alarm went off in his head; _here we go, he's pressing for information and if he gets it; he will kill you!_

"Yeah, me and Max." Logan answered. He knew there would be more questions to follow and he knew he would have to lie. Even though it was essential the truth be kept hidden, lying did not sit too well with Logan. It was a stupid gripe to have considering how many times Logan had lied in the past – he had been a secret underground eco-terrorist for fucks sake! – But it was a gripe none the less. Whenever Logan had lied in the past his conscience had come alive with dogged protests and he would have to quell his own dissatisfaction with further thoughts, of necessity and preservation of feelings. Once again the truth had to be bent and this time his life could be on the line.

"You been together long?"

Logan swallowed with difficulty, his saliva coming stuck in his throat. "We've known each other for four years but we've only been properly together for the past one." Great: that was the truth and the proverbial angel on his shoulder had no ammunition for his weapon of guilt.

"So you were friends first?" Zack asked, his voice becoming interested in what Logan had to say.

Logan took a nervous breath. Now things were going to get closer to _sensitive _information and he would have to check his thoughts before he let them become words, words that could spell his doom. "To begin with we were colleagues. We quickly became friends and then soon feelings turned to lust…then love."

"You love her?"

"More than anything…" Logan said, his feelings taking over and encouraging a warm smile to his mouth.

"When you say colleagues…" Zack inquired loosely, turning to Logan. It was plain to see that he was becoming more and more intrigued, allowing the conversation to take a more natural feel. "Did you mean like in an office or…"

Logan stopped for a second; an office wasn't a bad angle. "Yeah," he said, "we worked at the same printing office. We, erm, printed books."

"Huh, weird," Zack declared, turning back to the road.

"Weird?"

"Yeah, that a transgenic would work in an office. I could never imagine myself holding a regular job."

Logan decided to take a plunge and make an attempt at garnering some information for when, no if, he talked to Max later. "You never had a job before?"

"Not really, I worked on a farm right up until that whole Terminal City fiasco last year."

"You heard about the massacre?" Logan said with deluded surprise. Nearly everybody in America had heard about it, it had been a national event. Every news station worth it's cent had been outside the gates, dishing out the latest to a nation baying for blood. It only stood to reason that Zack would catch at least one bulletin. God, they really had forgotten about him, Logan realised. It was as if he had died and they had committed him to the ground, to their memories, and moved on with their lives. Logan found this thought oddly sad and he began to chew on his lip.

"Yeah, in fact that was when I found out I was a transgenic. See, I suffered, still suffer in fact, from a severe case of amnesia." Zack let out an exasperated laugh. "I can't remember anything prior to this one day when I woke up in hospital. I actually had no idea that I was some genetic super soldier, I believed I was just a simple farm hand cos that was what I was told. I had nothing but the word of others and I opted to go along with it."

"I see," Logan said as he lifted his face from the window. Curiosity was getting the better of him and was beginning to override his fear.

"Yeah it's weird, it's like waking up in that hospital was my birth and there was nothing before that. I mean I loved working on the farm and the people I lived with but I still yearned to know about my roots, it's only natural to want to know about your origins. Then I saw this news report complaining about these genetic freaks. They said you could identify them by a barcode tattoo on the back of the neck. I had that tattoo and that's when I began thinking, god just what the fuck am I."

"Must have been quite a shock…" Logan said, his voice dismissive almost, as he took in Zack's words. They had tried to shelter him from the truth, give him a new life, but such things were just novel dreams in today's reality. It was all a façade they had constructed and, as with anything in life, it would not stand the test of time. They should have known back then that transgenics and Manticore becoming public knowledge would have serious implications for Zack and the fairy tale they had woven for him. But then they didn't consider it; they had already let him go…

"Shit let me tell you, I was bricking it for days. I mean we were hated bitterly, and then the local people who I thought knew me, found out and turned on me. They ran me out of town."

"I'm sorry," Logan said with genuine remorse.

"Doesn't matter, I wouldn't have stayed anyway. I needed to find out who I was and what I was so I began to travel, picking up as much information as I could. It wasn't a successful search, after Terminal City all transgenics went to ground and couldn't be found. But then one day I ran into a doctor who had worked at Manticore a Doctor Allison Watts. She and I became close and would talk for hours a day. She laid it all out for me: the training, the purpose of the project, what we could do, Lydecker and the others; she told me everything she knew…but…she was dying; cancer."

"God…"

Zack smiled softly, the skin of his face barely recognising the movement of his lips. "Yeah, I remember when she told me I kinda didn't know what to do. I owed her so much you know, she had given me a chunk of my life back when she didn't have to. She said that before she died she wanted to tell me something special, something she had chosen to keep secret until I was ready. The cancer had taken hold so she told me sooner than planned."

"Told you what?"

"That I had brothers and sisters, that we had escaped together long before anyone else, and that they would still be out there, hopefully…I mean at the time, I doubted it what with Terminal City and all but curiosity is a bitch. Soon I began to search for my lost siblings."

Logan stopped to think for a moment. "Wouldn't that be like looking for a tear in the ocean?"

"Yeah, but Allison gave me a list of their designations."

Logan felt his heart stop. If Zack had designations of the ones he escaped with, then he would have Max's. This was not a good turn of events and suddenly the fear began to rise again. Logan parted his dry lips and forced himself to speak, not wanting to alert any form of suspicion by ending the conversation in that moment. "Did you ever find any of them?"

Zack chuckled, a melancholy laugh that hinted at regret. "Nope, I tracked one…took me fucking ages. Her name was Tinga but she had been dead for a very long time, long before I even knew who I really was…"

"So did you just give up?"

"I lost it. I had been through so much and I had done so much to find a sister that was dead…it was just more than I could take," Zack tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "I destroyed the list and gave up…worst thing I ever did…"

"I could imagine," Logan said, relief colliding with sorrow to confuse his thoughts. He knew he should be glad that Zack no longer had to access to Max's designation but at the same time, his tale was just so tragic Logan couldn't help but feel sorry for him, more so seeing how he knew the truth of Zack's lost past.

"Anyways, I wondered around a little more not really knowing what to do with myself and then I decided to resume the search. I knew it was daft considering I had nothing to go on but I just had to try and fuck to the odds. I went to talk to this scientist who had put me on Tinga's trail, and he told me that another one of my sisters had been involved in Terminal City. Well, I hitched to Seattle and ran straight into this mess. I haven't even begun to look for my sister…but I will, I have to…I need to know more."

Logan stopped not really knowing what else to say. He was so conflicted in that moment that he didn't understand what he was feeling.

"Shit…here we are," Zack turned the van round a corner and silenced the engine. He looked across at Logan, "Thanks for listening to me ramble."

"Not at all…" Logan replied absently.

"Ok, are you both ready?"

Chloe, who had been a sleeping, but avid, listener to Zack's tale, saluted and exited from the back.

Zack turned back to Logan. "Alright…are you ok, you look a little sweaty again?"

Logan dabbed at his brow and laughed silently. "Yeah…lets go."

"Alright, stay close to me and I will keep your ass safe. Listen to me and you will see Max again ok?"

Logan nodded, his thoughts still churning out doubts, questions, anything but answers he so desperately wanted. He didn't even know what he wanted answering but at a guess; he needed assurance that everything would be ok. Unfortunately there was no solace to be found within himself. Past experience predicted that everything would fall apart on him and Logan could not see a way for everything to end happily for all concerned. Someone was going to go into the future unfulfilled, the question was who?

"Come on," Zack said with a smirk, "It's game time!"

_Ok, time for a little note. I have to say that I am enjoying writing again, it's been a while and I had forgot how good it can feel, even if what you write is shit! Anyway, I hope my core audience of (counts fingers) one, are enjoying things. Hahaha, nah, I don't mind if only one person reads my shit, one is enough to warrant continuation. In fact I would write this if no one read it cos it's fun to imagine my own Dark Angel world, given the absence of the real one – and I sold my D.A DVD's for cash I really fucking needed. Anyways, pace is a lot slower than New Blood so things may seem dull at times – for this I apologise. Anyway, little hint for the next chapter: it will have some action and don't worry The Coming will make an appearance at some point, but I'm not saying when hoorah! Right well, I need to sleep latrz!_


End file.
